


Swallow

by sugarplumsenpai



Series: Wings of Freedom [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Tea, canonverse, comradeship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumsenpai/pseuds/sugarplumsenpai
Summary: Summary: Broken after the end of the war, Eren keeps his childhood promise to explore the world with Armin, mourning with every step Levi can’t follow.[Prequel to Sparrow (Revised) and Magpie | can be read as standalone work | Ereri Mini Bang 2019]





	1. Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Before we start, some author-y rambles.
> 
> This prequel snuck up on me. I never planned to write it, or pause on Magpie to begin any new story this year. The perks of being a writer, though, is that stories come to you, whether you plan them or not. 
> 
> I am so happy this one did. Alone for the opportunity to participate in this year's Mini Bang which allowed me to connect with an artist I maybe wouldn’t have met otherwise, and who’s not only been an absolute sweetheart but also drew such gorgeous traditional art with diligent pencilwork to accompany this story. [L-leonhardt](https://l-leonhardt.tumblr.com/), it’s been an absolute pleasure working with you, an honour, and I can’t thank you enough for being so kind and for making the mutual inspiration into such a wonderful process. 
> 
> Since I wrote this story for an event, I gave my best to make it approachable for new and versed readers alike. This series began in 2016, so it is canon-compliant until manga chapter 90 (end of anime season 3) yet diverts from there on with some little changes earlier to make this verse round. That aside, knowing any of the other parts isn’t necessary for understanding this story though there are some surprises for those who are familiar with this series.
> 
> I’ve never emotionally struggled with a story this immensely before and would not have been able to pull through if it weren't for some super incredible people. First of all, there’s [IttyBittyTeapot,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSeedofDarkness/pseuds/IttyBittyTeapot) who made this story possible whilst also ploughing through [her own story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386289/chapters/46129867) for this event. I can’t thank her enough for everything; for sobbing with me, for giggling over silly typos and laughing about ridiculous characters. For helping me whenever I needed. For sending me tissues so I'd have enough, for bearing with me during the usual daily insanities, and for being my emotional rock during a journey this trying. Heaps of thanks also to [KurahieiritrJIO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KurahieiritrJIO) for all the helpful input, the insightful observations from outside the box, and for knocking Eren out of his emo space when it was so highly needed. 
> 
> Further thanks again to my wonderful collaboration artist L-leonhardt whose gorgeous art for this story can be viewed [here](https://l-leonhardt.tumblr.com/post/185980794200/it-truly-stretches-all-the-way-to-the-horizon) and [here](https://l-leonhardt.tumblr.com/post/185980806655/erens-heart-stops-his-breath-does-too-as-his), and, last but not least, thanks so much to the [Mini Bang mods](https://ererievents.tumblr.com/) for hosting the event and for being so patient with me and supportive. You guys are all so very wonderful. Thank you!
> 
> This fic has more fanart now. Thanks so much to [Gaki Levi](http://sugarplum-senpai.tumblr.com/post/186439817240/mariefbm) for being inspired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “they dip and dance like barn swallows at dusk  
> glancing wingtip-to-wingtip against a lavender sky  
> barely touching - yet, each creating thermals for the other  
> to catch and ride - higher and yet, higher - towards a pale star...” 
> 
> ― Kate Mullane Robertson

Levi’s tea runs out under the paling August constellations. 

It’s a bleak morning, Eren muses, scowling into the tin box containing the meagre remains of Assam. He’s been so careful rationing it. One cup a week. An extra cup when his symptoms hit. Never on a sunny day. 

At first, it was a solid tactic. Indulging just a little on their long, long journey into the unknown. The tea helped to keep himself under control. It helped him to not feel alone amongst family. It helped him to not feel like shit. 

Every leaf on the teaspoon looked like it smiled. Curling on both ends and sending Eren’s lips twitching at the sight. Easing the knot in his tight chest. 

Brewing it in his tiny teapot was routine. Familiar. Like a friend sitting by his side, joining him with tea-steam-filled silence and calmness so strong it was a fortress against the noise battling its way into his head. 

One dawn, the can’s metal walls began to overshadow the golden-tipped bliss inside, and the shielding reprieve the Assam provided before tilted into an unfathomable ache. Whereas the first half seemed to symbolise hope, the growing void in the emptying caddie soon equalled an unstoppable descent into darkness. Each leaf removed embodied loss. Another week gone, another seven days worn away, feeling gone astray. 

One morning, the tea would run out for good, and with it every happy thought Eren can remember. All which would be left would be the eternal expedition. Going on and on and on. No ocean. No return. Only setting up camp and leaving it again to chase the horizon. Wading through muck and battling mosquitoes in the relentless heat. And map work. Endless, endless boring hours of map work. 

Eren rationed sterner. No Assam on a rainless cloudy day. No Assam during a storm. Not a heaped spoon per cup, only an even one in desperate conviction it would last longer. The brew tasted dreary this way, though. Not right. Feeble, and too watery to provide the needed comfort. It was a waste of good tea. The best tea. Levi’s tea. Weak tea and Levi did not go together. Opening the caddie a week later, Eren forfeited and made the next cup properly again. 

Now, with the sickle-shaped moon above sneering the thinnest smile, Eren wants to hit himself for that decision. If he hadn’t caved to his own insufficiencies, this single portion wouldn’t be the last bit left. 

His fingers clasp around the tin until the sharp edges cut steamy marks into his fingertips, and the leaves at the caddie bottom tremble. 

“What’s the matter now?” Jean asks, emerging from his tent and scratching his stomach with a yawn. “You look like someone died.”

“S’nothing,” Eren says, snapping the can shut and storing it away to retrieve his dwindling supplies of Gunpowder. 

During the five months they’ve been on the road, he never figured out why, but brewing the tea Levi pushed into his arms in March feels sacred. He doesn’t want to share, neither the tea, nor the preparation ritual. Especially not with Jean and that stupid scowl on his face, light brown eyes provoking Eren in a mixture of too much understanding, pity, and taunt. It sends thorny heat up Eren’s spine.

“If you say so,” Jean says with a shrug. “Just asking in case you want to talk.”

“Talk about what?” 

“Just…nothing, mate.” He raises both palms with a defeated sigh. “Nothing. Forget I asked. Have to take a leak anyhow.”

Glowering at Jean’s leaving figure, Eren pushes forward his jaw before refocusing on his tea. 

He doesn’t need anyone’s sympathy. He’s fine. 

*

The air smells odd. It carries a freshness that bursts with life, but underneath, lie cloying whiffs that remind Eren of decay. It’s like tasting one’s tears whilst looking at the aftermath of a battle, salty and overwhelmed by something Eren has no name for. 

The scent floods their noses from midday on, settling on their sun-burnt faces in layers of wind-whipped fissures and cracks. Eren’s lips won’t stop steaming. 

“We must be close to the shore,” Armin says, blue gaze flitting across the landscape in a constant jitter. A thin shawl covering his nose and mouth muffles his words before he pulls it down his chin. “That hill over there looks like a good shelter to stay at for a few days. Will be good for surveying too.” 

“Great,” Eren mutters to himself. Surveying. 

Though tired bruises mark Armin’s face, his eyes glisten so much, it’s like he’s that ten-year-old boy again who decided to travel the big wide world and convinced Eren there was more out there than Walls and Titans. Then he peers at Eren, and a shadow ghosts across his expression. He looks like Jean the other day. 

“I’m fine,” Eren says before Armin asks, or Mikasa reaches them and argues about it. “I can go on. It’s your call.”  _ You look pale too, _ he thinks.

Armin frowns, yet nods. “All right.” Clasping his reins, he signals his horse to trot on, and Hafsol obeys with a gentle snuffle, seemingly as driven as his master. 

They are out of earshot when another rider approaches Eren from behind, and he braces himself for the impending reprimand. 

“We’re riding too far today,” Mikasa says at Eren’s side. “You’ve both been steaming since noon.” 

Eren pulls a face. As if it mattered where his skin cracks and heals and cracks again. “I would steam at the camp too.”

“It’s tiring you.” She thrusts a canteen under his nose. “You shouldn’t have told him to move on.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren snatches the bottle from her grip. “It’s only for another hour, Mikasa. And I didn’t tell him to do anything. This plain is shit for making camp anyhow.”

She purses her mouth, thin black eyebrows drawing together in a way that tells Eren she won’t cave. “I’ll talk to Armin.” With that she clasps her reins and orders her umber mare onward, her red scarf flapping in her trail.

Left behind with her flask, Eren takes a mouthful of boiled water and wonders how Mikasa can stand wearing that old thing in this heat. Her neck must be sweltering.

As the waggons and soldiers behind him clamour forward, he sighs, squinting against the descending summer sun. There was a time Eren loved the sun. He enjoyed standing in her shine, soaking up her heat, her energy. These days, she’s too bright. Stripped of everything he once adored, leaving harsh, blinding light and sticky sweat that doesn’t cease, clinging to them all and accumulating dust. He hasn’t felt clean since forever.

Today the light carries a brightness that shoots nauseating bolts through Eren’s brain. They ripple down his oesophagus and settle in his stomach, writhing and squirming, and sending too sweet saliva into his mouth. He gulps it down. It doesn’t go away. He clears his throat and swallows again. Again. The last thing he needs right now is having to ralph. Aside from people fussing over him whenever he does, it reminds him too much of mist, and dashing to his toilet around dusk, puking his guts out, disgusted with himself. 

Beneath him Salka neighs. Pressing his lips together, Eren pats her chestnut neck. 

“Go on. It’s okay.” 

She huffs and shakes her head, looking to her right where Eren can see a near-black bay if he only closes his eyes. “I know you miss them,” he mumbles, running one hand over Salka’s dark mane when she huffs. “Maybe they’ll still be there when we return.” If they return. 

Grey eyes look at him, far away and sad, bidding him farewell with a voice so closed-off it still aches on Eren’s skin. 

Sometimes he wishes he could cut off his own head to never have memories ever again. It would make life so much easier. 

*

Mikasa prevails, and Armin gives the order to halt in the middle of the plain. 

Going by the exasperated look he shoots Eren as they dismount, he isn’t happy about it either. Eren snorts and rolls his eyes. Both of them have learnt arguing with Mikasa is pointless, and the further they travel, the more fanatic her clucking becomes. 

Soon, near a hundred soldiers assemble in a loose circle, stretching, drinking water, and grousing about pausing two hours after lunch. 

Mikasa glowers into the group, pushing protein bars into Armin and Eren’s hands. Rolling his eyes, Eren unwraps it before she can ram it down his throat. It tastes like dust.

“Okay, listen up, folks,” Armin says over the muttering. His blond hair blows in his face as it escapes his half-ponytail. “We’ll camp at the hill over there, so let’s get through the details. Kay?” 

Kay scratches his hammer nose and nods. “Make the camps down the line…” 

He hasn’t finished a sentence before Eren tunes him out. This will take forever. It always does, and it’s always the same too. The same every time they make camp. The same food, dry and bland or both. The same dust in his hair and on his skin. The same clayey mud on his boots, soiling them. The same tasks. Day after day. Month after month. Monotonous and bleeding from one moment to the next like that broken record his father used to play. 

At least when Eren was a child, he could escape outside and go play or start a fight. 

He would prefer one now.

“What’s for dinner?” Sasha asks, nibbling on a pear she must have picked on their way. Juice runs down her chin, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand before licking it off.

Armin smiles. “I don’t know, Sash. Take Connie and some men to hunt when we leave here and see for yourself?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She grins and wolves the rest of her fruit down. “Wonderful.”

Tucking a strand behind his ear, Armin consults his journal. “Eren, I’ll manage the sample records again too,” he says. “So I need someone to take over with surveying.”

Sighing at the unuttered question, Eren meets Armin’s pleaful blue gaze. This isn’t about Armin needing help. This is about keeping an eye on Eren, but it’s not like this is anything new. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Good,” Armin says with a nod. “Everything going well with the compendium?” 

Jean nods. “Going fine.” He stands beside Mikasa, arms crossed, brow creased. Neck spotted red from mosquito bites. “Added ‘bout fifty pages of new plants the past week…”

Stifling a yawn, Eren catches sight of a cloud at the horizon. He wonders whether it will rain any time soon. 

It’s unlikely.

Soldiers laugh around him, and Eren pastes on a smile. 

“Yeah, the animals are changing.” Armin squints his eyes at the sky. “See these birds? I think, they’re gulls. There must be other new species close too. Don’t hunt them; we don’t have enough room, and they’ll rot. But look for things they shed. Feathers, fur tufts, shells. Feaces too.”

“Yum,” Niv says, smirking when laughter breaks out. “You don’t want us to try it beforehand, do you,” he asks.

_If you think it helps, fuckhead,_ Levi’s voice says, and Eren chokes on his snort when the words and accompanying smirk remain a mere fragment of his imagination. 

Swallowing the subsequent lump in his throat, he stares at his boots, kicking some caked mud off the tip. He hasn’t heard the real Levi talk in months. 

“No, Niv, of course not,” Armin says. “Just put it in the jars. Don’t touch it with your bare hands. If you have to, apply some alcohol afterwards. The medics still must have some of that.” He shoots a questioning glance into the round, and nods at the agreeing hums before he motions at Kay to continue. 

“Right,” he says in his deep voice. “So on to latrine ditching…”

*

As expected, the new campsite is like every other place. Crammed with soldiers, horses, and guarded with a vigilant system so established, schedules aren’t much mentioned any longer. It smells as it does every other place as well, of rotting ponds, old sweat, and muck. Soon, the morasses will creep over them all and make them a part of the swamp. Sometimes Eren wonders if they already are. 

“The plants look funnier every day,” Connie says, prodding a leafy tuft with the tip of his boot while his knife works on a small piece of wood. 

Jean harrumphs.

Trying to poke sun-caked muck off his boots with a stick, Eren hums. 

They sit around the fire, waiting for Sasha to decide her rabbit stew is ready while the camp around them bustles with evening life, from soldiers grooming their horses, to friends playing cards or rolling dice. Ray plucks a quiet tune on his guitar Eren is certain he can recite in his sleep by now. Cicadas chirp in the dimming daylight. Frogs croak. Storks knock with their beaks. Comrades laugh. The air is stuffy after the hot day. Eren’s short hair sticks to his neck. His armpits stink. They all stink. 

“Yeah, Armin already packed a few of those weeds,” Jean says after glancing over his sketchbook. His eyebrows draw together. “I think.” 

“He did,” Eren says when they both look at him as if he knows everything about Armin’s sample collection. His twig snaps, and he tosses it away. The mud is too relentless here. “We gathered some of those little shrubs with orange berries on them too. Jules got them packed for transport back to HQ.”

Connie nods. “Damn. With the scenery changing so much, we’ll run out of boxes soon.” 

Eren shrugs. It’s not much of a surprise. They’re always running out of something. Then Hanji sends new supplies, and they’re set for another while. 

“Running out of doves again too,” Jean says as if he read Eren’s mind. “Only the emergency pair left.”

Connie chips away a few wooden curls that land on the ground at their feet. “Hanji’s delivery should be here any day.” He seems to work on an animal, yet Eren can’t care to look close enough to find out which kind. “I don’t mind the boxes, though. Personally, I’d be far more worried about the salt.” His gaze lifts from his carving. “It’s running low as well.”

They all look at Sasha stirring in the copper over the fire. 

Jean sighs. “Shit.”

“Yup,” Connie agrees. 

Eren scowls.

Ray’s song plays through the evening. Sasha hums along over the big pot with stew. Niv slams a dice cup onto an empty crate, and curses with a chuckle as he checks the result. The other players exult with glee. Sovanna gives him a consoling kiss. 

Feeling like he’s looking in from the outside, Eren picks at his nails. 

Jean huffs a laugh as he peers at Eren over his drawing. “Remember when she told Shadis the stew needed more salting?” 

Connie grins. “She says she still dreams about running for that one.”

“I’m still surprised he only made her run,” Jean replies, tending back to rub coal across paper. 

“He liked her too much by the end.”

“Maybe why she never learnt,” Jean says, huffing again before falling silent. 

Feeling both of their gazes slide to him, Eren frowns at his twiddling fingers. 

It took Sasha a day in Levi’s squad to insist on more salt for their meals too. Not that they had much of anything on that farm, but this bothered her the most. Contrary to Shadis, however, Levi merely arched an eyebrow, muttered something about spoiled greedy brats, and that was it. The next noon, he had his first meal cooked by her. He took the first spoonful, stilled, shifted on his seat to stretch his—by then already hurting—leg, and continued with a little frown. 

An hour later, he sent a messenger from Hanji’s squad to fetch more salt. When Eren asked him why a few years later, Levi smirked over his tea cup and said it was the only ingredient that was both handy and most unlikely to be eaten by her before putting it to good use. Eren still is convinced he also did it because the food indeed tasted better and because Levi quickly came to like Sasha too. Whatever the real reasons were, the Special Operation Squad always had the best salt supplies from there on, especially after that deal with Reeves. 

Someone laughs, and shifting on his crate to pull himself into the present, Eren swallows. 

Levi feels so far away. With every step towards the horizon, it becomes worse. Eren can’t even fully recall his smile. Just the warmth of it and the way it used to settle on his arms. 

How Eren misses it. The smile and its feeling, yet most of all Levi himself. Their friendship. Everything on this expedition reminds him of Levi’s absence: their double tent he occupies alone now, tea drank alone instead of sharing it in easy silence. The lack of dry-humoured comments on daily happenings and silly questions. The noise. The constant, horrible noise with no prospect of escaping it. The empty space at his side wherever he goes, harassing his senses with a hollow ache, even when he’s surrounded by friends. People’s careful gazes on him whenever he thinks of Levi, even when it’s something as trivial as Levi ensuring Sasha had her salt.

Connie sighs with a scratch to his bald head, eyes redirecting their focus from Eren to his woodwork. “Yeah. Hell of a woman. Imagine the salt going out completely, though.”

“We’ll be fucked,” Jean sighs. 

“Doomed,” Connie says. 

Jean huffs. “She’ll be furious.” 

“Yeah,” Eren agrees, just to say something too in the feeble hope speaking will ease the pressure in his chest. “She’ll be a pain to live with.”

Jean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously.  _ You _ wanna go there?”

Heat flashes through his body, bursting up his throat. “What’s that supposed to mean!” 

“Oh-oh…” Connie lifts both hands, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Easy there, ladies. Otherwise, I’ll ask Sash to throw you both into the pot too.” He smirks at Eren. “Not that you carry much meat these days, but Jean sure looks tasty, don’t you think?”

Eren pulls a face. “I’d rather eat shit.”

Jean snorts. “Thanks, mate. Same.” He jerks his chin at Connie before he adds more lines to his sketchbook. “Maybe we should throw that bonehead into the pot.”

“I taste good, just so you know,” Connie says with a chuckle. “Wanna have a bite, Jean?” He lifts his shirt to reveal his mosquito-bite-ridden abdominal muscles, stroking them with the wooden piece in his grip. “Self-grown and sturdy. Rrr.” 

“Really not my type, mate,” Jean says. “No offence.”

“I could be your type. Just give it a try. Come on. Touch them. I know you love some strength. I might not be an Ackerman, but–” 

“Damn straight.” Jean’s smirks, and Eren has enough. 

“Ugh. Must you?” He shudders, standing to flee their stupid conversation. 

Connie calls after him, “Aw, come on, man. You’ll regret this, Eren!” His lifted shirt still allows unobstructed view of his flexing muscles. “This is a one-time offer.”

“The fuck it is,” Eren mutters as he scans the camp for a new place to sit. 

Not too close to Ray playing guitar. People keep dancing there and will prod him to sing. Not with the gamers, they’ll want him to participate. 

On another day, Eren would pass the time with construction work, yet they finished building another supply depot only the week before. Wood is chopped enough to last a day, the latrine ditch is dug, and Eren already scrubbed Salka’s saddle and groomed her too. Maybe he should retreat to his tent.

“Hello, great leader.” Niv interrupts his thoughts with a smile as Eren passes their group. “Care to try your luck?”

Jules scribbles something on a thumbed notepad while Nico rolls the dice and barks a heated “bloody shit hell, yes!” at the result. Tolbert curses with a shake of his head. 

Niv sighs and grins at Eren. “I bet the dice like you better than me.”

Jules looks up at him with, one eye green the other brown, and though she grins, her voice is earnest. “The punkies certainly love him. These bug bites make you steam like a kettle, Eren. Maybe some playing will distract you.”

“No, thanks,” Eren says. He never liked dice games, and their appeal hasn’t changed with their noise following him on a nightly basis.

“Aw, man,” Niv says, palm pressing against his chest where the half-opened shirt reveals a row of tattooed letters reading ‘Forbidden Fruit.’ “If you keep saying that, you’ll break my little heart.” 

Giving a dismissive wave, Eren walks on. 

He’s always felt alone in a crowd. His own fault, of course, for never making much of an effort, but during this trip, people have become a foreign species to him. They talk and laugh and crack jokes. They dance to Ray’s music and sing, they enjoy boisterous evenings when there’s more to eat than dull protein bars. They drink water and pretend it’s wine, they tell each other stories under the moonlit sky, and go to sleep content with the world. With being alive and free of the Walls. Free of the Underground, free of the Titans.

How does one connect to that when one still feels caged? The war is over, has been for months, and though the Walls are no longer a border for Eren, it’s like he traded one set of bars for another. Words take immense effort to form, nobody here appreciates his jokes, and it feels like his laughter died months ago. Sometimes Eren wonders if one of the final battles took away his soul. He definitely hasn’t been the same since that foggy day last November. 

Looking for a quieter spot, his gaze lands on a vacant crate close to Armin and Mikasa who seem deep enough in their talk to leave him the fuck be for the time being. All he wants is to sit in quiet, have his dinner, and then retreat. 

Mikasa nods at something Armin says, her face serious, fingers rubbing at the thinning threads of her scarf. As a sprig snaps beneath Eren’s boot, she peers up, falling silent. A bit too silent. Eyebrows drawing together, mouth pinching shut.

Eren grinds his teeth. Great. They’re talking about him again. 

“Hey, Eren,” Armin says. His smile looks false. “Feeling better?”

“Fine,” he says, hot-tempered heaviness settling in his stomach as the empty crate loses its appeal. He’d rather sit alone in his tent than join in this shallow shit. “Fuck this. I’m going to sleep.”

“What about dinner?” Mikasa asks. “You look too pale again.”

“Oh, fuck off and bother someone else,” Eren snarls. “I’m not hungry.” The omnipresent stench upsetting his stomach aside, he lost his appetite for anything solid months ago. 

“You have to eat,” Mikasa says. The  _ or we’ll return or send you back with the next waggons, _ stands clear on her face, even before she adds, “And you will.” Her eyes are sharp and adamant, and with the tone of her words such a perfect spitting image of Levi, heat explodes on Eren’s arms. 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he yells, voice threatening to crack for no good reason he can tell. “Just go fuck yourself and choke on a fucking bone. I’m sick and tired of you bossing us around, Mikasa, and Armin is too.”

“I’d appreciate if you kept me out of this, Eren,” Armin says.

Eren blinks against tears. “Of course, you would. You can look like shit and still smile at her, but I can’t. I fucking can’t! And I sure as fuck don’t need her to treat me like her child.”

“Oi,” Jean says. 

Eren bares his teeth. When did he come to stand beside him? And when did the camp around them fall this silent? “What! You coming to defend her as always too?”

“I’m not defending anyone,” Jean says. “Just calm down. We’re all on your side, mate.” 

Staring into tawny eyes holding his close enough their brows almost touch, Eren searches for an answer yet draws a blank. He hates this. All of it. Their worrying for him and the nagging and their careful way with him. 

Two years ago, Jean would have sloshed him, and he’d slosh back, and Levi would separate them, and Eren would feel embarrassed for breaking Jean’s nose, but good too. Levi isn’t here, though, and never since the day they left, Eren wished him to be here more; just so he’d punch Eren and tell him with a calm voice to get his fucking shit together. It would be contact. It would be honesty. Company. It would be more bearable than this.

Eren jostles past Jean. “Oh, fuck off, all of you.” He turns his back to them and walks away. 

Close to half a year they’ve been on the road. 

It feels like forever. 

*

The ground in his tent is hard and dry after the torrid day, whirling up dust as he sits and closes the flap, shutting the sounds out. It doesn’t help much, only muffles the voices and makes them more foreign and out of his world. They don’t need him to have fun. They might even laugh louder now that he’s gone and stopped spreading his spleen. 

Jean is right when he says Eren is a pain to live with. He tries to smile during this expedition and contribute without pissing everyone off. Yet the more he fakes them the harder they come, and every reminder of Levi is like a vice tightening around his chest. 

Levi never minded Eren’s moods. Not before their fallout. How often did they retreat, just the two of them, to be alone with each other? Either in the stables, on a small trip to train in the woods, to clean, to do paperwork together, or to spend an evening by Levi’s fireplace. 

They often didn’t talk much then. Didn’t have to, didn’t need to, neither wanting to disturb the silence that soon became a far better conversation than the real kind. Little looks and smiles, a grunt, a huff, a gesturing hand. A tilting head. Tapping fingers. Exchanging a glance. 

The memory of Levi’s quietude is enough for the ruckus outside to accumulate in Eren’s head and add to the weight on his chest. He’s running out of air. He presses his fingers against his temples until the pressure hurts more and distracts from the pain inside. When that doesn’t help, he tugs at his hair hard enough it bites. 

This part of the day is the same every night too. At the campfire, he wants to retreat, and once he’s here, the solitude presses in on him, louder than the noises outside. Empty and hollow. Everything is too still. No second bundle lies beside his own. No game of chess waits on the ground. No one complains about the persistent dirt in the tent creases or kicks his ankles with the order to stop fucking growing since his legs are in the way. 

Releasing the grip on his strands, Eren rubs his eyes and folds his legs in anyways. 

What might Levi do at this moment? He loathes summer, so he probably flees the heat as best as he can, scowling at the flimmering air as he opens his window in hopes of catching a rare evening breeze, and then grouses at the insects flying in. Eren used to catch the bigger ones, freed so many stray moths, beetles, and spiders from Levi’s merciless purge, he stopped counting over the years. Perhaps, with Eren gone from his life, Levi went back to slapping their lives out. Or maybe not. Maybe he is in his quarters right now, catching a butterfly with a jar before releasing it with the muttered remark to piss off. 

Eren frowns at that last thought. Would Levi have been able to keep his office to begin with? Hanji mentions him in her messages without ever going much into detail. ‘Things are going well. Levi drives me up the wall, and I do my best to reciprocate, so we shatter each other’s convictions regularly.’ 

The words always make Eren smile and miss them both as he pictures them bickering with each other in Hanji’s office or in the mess hall. It always ends in the question if Levi even still lives there. 

Maybe he left HQ altogether. Maybe he found someone to make him happy, now that the war is over and he is no longer a soldier. Levi never seemed interested in that sort of life, but who knows? Levi never seemed interested in sex either until it happened. 

Maybe he’s starting a family. With little kids to look after and protect, soon counting their little toes and delighting in their toothless smiles. Grumbling at their poopy swaddling bands and loving them like mad anyway. 

Sniffing, Eren ruffles his hair. Levi deserves to be happy. To not be alone. 

His hand fastens around a familiar tin. Running his thumb over the smooth label, he clears his throat and opens the lid with a quiet rattle. The scent of Assam invades his nostrils. Takes over his thoughts. 

One teaspoon left. One portion. 

_ Are you sure? _ Levi’s voice asks, the image of him sitting two arm lengths away.

Eren scowls at what he’s about to do. It was sunny all day. It’s against the rules. Yet, it’s the last cup. The very last. It doesn’t matter on what kind of day he drinks it. If he doesn’t brew it soon, it will spoil. Better have it now while he’s alone. 

No one should come looking for him any time soon. Not with everyone distracted having fun, and with his strop being out of their way. 

Yes. 

Better have it now when he is undisturbed. Plus, his chest aches. Levi’s tea will help. 

Resolve settling in his shoulders, Eren presses his lips together and swallows. “Okay.”

Setting the caddie aside, he retrieves his tiny kettle, fills it with enough water from his nearest canteen, and opens a small flap of his tent for some air. He fetches the camper set—a bowl, the icefire, a matchbox, and the wobbly tripod for hanging his pot—laying them all out beside him. There is only one way to do this, and this is the right way. He must not make any mistakes. Have everything ready. 

Tea sieve, tea leaves, pot, and sandglass. One final biscuit is left too. Saved for this very moment, and long crumbled to pieces, but that isn’t important. Important is it’s there and hasn’t turned mouldy or rancid. Eren dips his fingers into the sugary dust to check the taste, and nods. A bit too soft to be perfect, but maybe it’s even better this way. 

The cloth-protected tea cup is the last thing Eren retrieves from his bundle. It’s fragile, white and delicate, with a little chip at the rim. 

The tea looks good in the sieve, smells beautiful and rich. Like comfort. It comes with Assam powder falling through the fine mesh as Eren knocks every last bit out of the can, but it’s okay. 

He lights the fire, and while he waits for the water to boil, he closes his eyes, blending out the noises from the camp. The blaze of the small flame shows through his eyelids, and if he thinks hard enough, he is at Levi’s quarters, and never left. He never screwed up either. Their friendship is still intact, and they are playing chess. 

The image shifts to grey eyes looking forlorn by the end of the war, and Eren bites the inside of his cheek, battling the memory away, searching for another. 

Meraki eating an apple from his palm. Levi standing nearby, grouching about spoiling animals when they barely had enough food for themselves before he hands Eren a carrot to feed more. Flying through the woods in spring, following a green-cloaked broad back. A small, firm hand resting on his spine, adjusting him during training. Cleaning together. Buying soap together, and smelling each bar before choosing the best of them. Levi sitting here with him, smiling over tea steeped in their quiet sanctuary.

The water boils, and Eren pours it over the leaves, heart speeding as soon as the first drop hits the golden-edged smiles. He’s really doing this. 

“Three minutes,” he mumbles to himself, turning over the sandglass. “You can’t sleep either way, and it tastes better than with four.”

The minutes run out as his heart maintains its agitated pounding, and his fingers tremble when the last sand grain falls. 

He lifts the sieve from his tiny pot before he pours himself the infusion. Careful to not spill a single drop. He sighs at its scent. It’s perfect. He can tell already. It smells heavenly. Sweet and promising, like spring when you can’t feel it yet but know it’s in the air. 

Eren grasps the cup, uncaring the heated china singes his fingers, and blows over the tea steam, eyes falling closed. 

He slurps a first tiny sip. His shoulders sag and he has to clear his throat.

Yes. Perfect.

_ You don’t want to over-steep it, _ Levi’s voice says.  _ It turns bitter otherwise. _

“Like this?” Eren asked five years ago, handing Levi a cup and unable to hide his nervousness.

Levi tried it, grey eyes shining. “Not bad, brat.” 

Sniffing in his tent, Eren holds the memory close. 

Ironic that this last portion is like the first again. Glowing, and warming his chest. 

His eyes spot the open caddie, and he sets the cup aside, smelling the empty tin. The scent is still there. He closes the can, trapping the flavour, and takes another swig. It scalds his tongue. 

_ Greedy, _ Levi’s voice says with a little smirk. 

Eren scowls and puts his cup down, staring at it. 

It will get cold like this. Bitter. Assam tastes better warm and sweet. When it tastes like autumn, and leather. Like riding out with their horses under a golden October sun. Like laughter mingling with a snort in front of lit fireplaces and a foot kicking his shin for a bad poop joke. Like the wild swoop during flying with his eyes fixed on a green cloak ahead.

Eren drinks more. 

More. 

And more. 

The cup empties too fast. 

He sits on his hands to keep them away from the tea. It’s half gone already. His heart twists. Over soon. Far too soon. 

A shudder ripples down his back. Spreads to his arms.

He shouldn’t have brewed the last portion. Now it’s gone, half of it anyway, and there is no going back. But he has to drink it. Must, as long as it’s fresh. 

Stalling for time, he peers at the depleted leaves in the sieve. They aren’t good for a rebrew. Any further infusion from them would taste horrible, and disappoint. His teeth catch his bottom lip as he reaches for the sieve, scrambling fingers scraping the leaves out of the mesh before tossing them into the flames of his little hearth. 

They land on the blaze with a protesting hiss and send sharp tannin flavour into the evening. It doesn’t smell as nice as the concoction in his cup, but like this he can’t cave to some weakness and reinfuse them. Eren squeezes his eyes shut so he won’t see them turn to ash.

Clasping tight around the cup’s china, he cradles the tea to his chest, inhaling again. 

Levi used to say the last cup of a caddie means a new beginning. A new caddie to open and have the first cup. A new flavour to try. To Eren it came to mean sneaking out to the black market together after curfew, and returning to HQ with whatever spoke to them most.

Out here, that isn’t possible. All Eren has are crumbled biscuit remnants, and waning supplies of Gunpowder. Eventually, that will be gone too.

His index finger dips into the biscuit crumbs, collecting a few before lifting them to his mouth. They go well with the tea. Strengthening its sweetness with a buttery comfort that once tickled a smile out of him. 

The tea is running cold. Its temperature drops by the second. Eren forces himself to take another, very small dram.

The last sip is the worst. Almost hostile and bitter cold, hurting as it rolls over Eren’s tongue before settling in his stomach like a stone. Tears press out of his eyes as the final drop runs out. Angry, desperate. 

Gone. It’s gone. 

Staring into his empty cup, Eren shakes. 

He only realises he’s sobbing when he tries to inhale and his lungs seize. He presses his fist to his mouth to remain quiet. He doesn’t need attention right now.  _ Has _ to remain quiet. 

A tiny, last drop swims at the bottom of his cup, an amber-coloured spot on white china, and he dips his fingers into it, trying to catch it, licking it off. Over, over and over again. Until his fingertip squeaks against the fragile porcelain. 

There’s still flavour in there. 

He grabs the kettle with remaining hot water. Pouring it into the cup to wash every last bit of Assam out of its smooth material. He gulps the brew down, coughing when it scorches his tongue. His throat. Steaming from his mouth when he gasps for air. 

Tears batter his legs. 

“No,” he whimpers, sniffing and wiping his nose. “Please, please, please…don’t be gone…please…”

But it is, and he is all alone in his tent. Alone with his too little fire and snot running down his upper lip. No October sun warming his back, no leather scent comforting him. No secretive smiles across tea cups. No Levi. 

A whine pushes its way out right before his lungs contract again. He can’t breathe. 

Feverous eyes search for something, anything, that might help, he spots the emptied caddie. 

It’s from Levi. Levi gave it to him, wanted him to have it. It may be empty now, but it’s still a gift. The last connection. No one can take it away. 

Eren leaps onto it, hugging it tight to his chest. 

The tin protests in his embrace, and he tries to loosen his death grip, his tears a ceaseless stream down his cheeks. His windpipe still won’t cooperate. 

“Eren?” a voice says over boots crunching across gritty floor. 

He tries to answer, wanting to tell the intruder to go to hell and leave him be. The attempt at least sends some air into his lungs. He sniffs, trying to remain quiet while his chest heaves, in need of oxygen. 

The footsteps come closer. 

Eren sniffs again. Why do they always have to look for him?

“Leave me alone,” he gasps. Effortless. 

A shadow darkens the entrance to his tent, followed by a hiss. 

“Shit,” Armin says, crouching down at his side. “Are you in pain?”

Eren can’t answer. He can’t even nod or shout what a stupid fucking question that is. He is aflame; it will never stop.

“You need to breathe, Eren. Give me that. It will help.” Armin tugs at the caddie.

“No!” The yell is out before Eren’s mind can catch up. His hands cling to the can as his body curls tighter around it. “It’s mine. No one can take it.”

“I don’t, I just want to help. I’ll just put it aside. You constrict your lungs like this.” He tugs at the caddie again. “Come on, Eren, don’t be melodramatic. He isn’t as perfect anyway–”

_ "No!" _

White heat explodes before Eren’s eyes. His fist meets warm skin, and hard bones crunch under his knuckles. 

Armin hisses and holds his face. 

Eren stills. Stares. 

His chest heaves. His hand begins to tremble. He thinks his knuckles are broken. Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is that this isn’t right. Armin did nothing wrong… 

“Okay,” Armin says, taking a step back. “Okay. Calm down. I won’t take it.” His voice is muffled. Dark red glistens on his lips. His jaw starts to steam. “Well, at least you’re breathing now,” he says.

He steps forward again and pushes long blond strands out of his face before placing his hand on Eren’s shoulder. 

The touch compounds his temper, and Eren pushes Armin’s hand away. Resentment lashes in his chest. Why doesn’t Armin hit him too? Why does Armin never hit back? He should. He should kick Eren and curse at him, and tell him to go to hell where he belongs. He should punch him until his knuckles are warm with Eren’s blood and insult him and resign their friendship. Not reach out and talk like Eren never does anything wrong. 

“What happened?” Armin asks, both hands aloft. 

“What do you want from me?” Eren says. He doesn’t give a shit about how shaky his voice sounds. He has to get Armin out of here. It’s bad enough he found him like this at all, but Eren can feel his eyes burning, and he won’t cry in front of a witness. “Finished talking about me, so now you have to patronise me in person?”

Hands dropping at his sides, Armin scrunches his nose. Frowns. “I just came to tell you dinner is ready.” His jaw is bruised. His entire face steams. “I know Mikasa went too far, but you have to eat, Eren.”

Placing his cheek back into the compressed dust, Eren closes his stinging eyes. 

Sometimes he hates Armin for always knowing what he wants, for always being aware of what he does. For always being kind to him and showing him how despicable he is in return. It makes the pain seep back in. 

“I’m not hungry. Go away.”

Silence falls, followed by rattling china and a sigh. “Did you drink the last portion of the tea?”

“Out!” Eren yells, vocal chords cracking from the strain. “Get out! I want to be alone! Why can’t you for once let me be the fuck alone?” 

Armin’s voice is quiet. “I’m just trying to help, Eren.”

“Fuck off.” New tears cloud his vision as he coils into a ball around the caddie. “I don’t need your help. Never wanted your help. Please, just let me be…please.” 

It seems to take forever, but Armin turns, movement gentle enough that it hurts in Eren’s chest. “I’ll set a bowl out in front of your tent. You need to eat something, Eren. You know that.”

With that he leaves, closing the tent behind him, and Eren can finally weep himself to sleep.


	2. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has beautiful accompanying artwork by the lovely [L-leonhardt](https://l-leonhardt.tumblr.com/post/185980794200/it-truly-stretches-all-the-way-to-the-horizon).

The grass is cool against Eren’s back. Its soft blades caress his shoulders, his calves, his sides where his shirt has ridden up. Daisies speckle the lush glade, bent, yet unbroken from cavorting about. His lungs burn from the wrestling. His blood rejoices in his veins. A deep chuckle fills his ears. 

“Brat. You can’t win over me.”

Levi crouches over him, and Eren grins. He shrugs, feigns surrender, then grapples hard, rolls them around, and laughs when Levi slams him back against the ground. 

How he loves being overpowered when it comes to the two of them. It’s the only time he can let go and show what rages inside. 

His arms fall beside his head, tingling and open. His eyes feast on tiny white petals and bits of green-green grass marking inky hair and a pale throat—begging to be touched. Beautiful. 

“Who says I want to win?” he says, eyes fluttering closed when a mild breeze grazes his neck. He opens them again and puts as much challenge into his voice as he can. “Come on.”  _ Make me feel safe. _

Levi shudders. “Eren.” 

His knuckles slide down Eren’s jaw, tip up his chin, and Eren tastes Levi’s sigh right before their mouths meet, unhurried and soft, and oh… _ oh!  _

Eren melts, sprawled out in the grass, gives himself over. The soles of his feet tingle, toes digging into the yielding earth. His insides swoop, and he loses hold of a high-pitched whimper when Levi’s teeth catch his bottom lip to lightly pull and suck, soothing the unfulfilled ache with his tongue slipping into Eren’s mouth. Slow, wet, so fucking  _ good. _ Not enough.

Eren kisses back.

The scene speeds up. 

Calloused hands grip Eren’s hips, run up his waist with tenderly circling thumbs and set his nerve endings ablaze. Strength. So much strength in this feathery touch. Levi could crush him if he wanted to. Never has Eren met anyone this kind. 

He hears himself moan, his back arches, and his yearning fingers dive into silky black hair. 

“Eren. Yes– fuck, yes.”

“Levi.”

Silvery eyes gleam as they look at him, riveted and dark with lust. Patches of light paint his flushed cheekbones. His muscular arms. His heaving chest. His usually so stern mouth is swollen and wet, cherry-red from kissing. Eren licks his lips, transfixed on the juicy bottom lip that shudders when Levi slides into him, slow and hard, teasing another groan from them both. One hand reaches for Eren’s to intertwine sweat-slick fingers. Guiding his knuckles to Levi’s lips before pressing his arm into soft cool moss. 

Trees whisper above their heads. Their crowns begin to spin. The air smells wonderful. Eren feels open, alive, and so thoroughly fucked, he never wants this to end.

“Please! Oh, please! Levi…” 

Levi smirks a shaky smile and angles his hips to hit the exact right spot. 

Eren will come any second. If this goes on…

No.

He can’t come. It will ruin everything. He shouldn’t even be here. Neither of them should. 

He bites his lip, trying to fight it, to block it all out. The rhythmic slaps. Their shuddering breath. The glorious bliss rippling down his front in elated goose flesh. Levi holding him as if he was someone dear.

It’s a dream. He knows it is. Eren knew it from the start. 

They didn’t fuck this gentle. They didn’t fuck during daytime either, nor out in the open for everyone to see. Nowadays Levi can’t even look at him anymore. 

Eren freezes, terrified. This isn’t happening. He can stop it. All he has to do is wake up. Maybe Levi will listen and help. He always helps.

“Levi,” he says, eyes filling with tears.

“Eren,” Levi whispers, and it’s too late. 

Pleasure spikes, hot and explosive, and the last thing Eren sees before he shoots up from his makeshift bed, sweaty, breathless, and pumping scalding semen against his lower stomach, is the exact counterpart of Levi’s astounded look of abandon right before he followed. 

It might just be the most beautiful thing Eren has ever seen in his life. It can’t be, though. 

It’s wrong. 

Pulse racing in the dark, Eren rakes an unsteady hand through his hair, listening to his agitated breath slowing down. 

It takes longer than usual, his heart thundering behind his ribs as if in protest, as if it wanted to cling to the images reality shuts out. Eren presses his palm against the spot where it beats and wishes he could rip the evil thing out. 

A pathetic thought, really. It would heal right back into place. 

“These dreams have to fucking stop,” he says under shaking breath, wiping angry salt out of his eyes. The order hasn’t helped so far, but maybe one day it finally will. They’re always about Levi, and Eren wishes to know what the fuck is wrong with him for having such disrespecting fantasies during his sleep. As if he needed a reminder of what he did. 

His cock twitches in his pants, sticky and exhausted, bowing out. 

“Why do you keep doing this, huh?” Standing on wobbly legs to wipe himself clean, Eren scowls down at it in the dark. He has to go to the nearby river to clean his underwear. At least he decided against wearing his pyjamas in this sodding heat; it’s starting to become tedious to wash his come-drenched nightclothes. 

Sifting through his bundle after lighting a lamp, he retrieves a flask of water, a small piece of soap, a rag, and a washcloth. He strips, wipes the worst mess away, and starts to scrub. Why does this stuff have to be this persistent all the time? Especially in the genital hair. 

Eren rubs sperm off his pelvis and scowls. It’s a good thing he always fills some extra flasks for washing each morning. He feels filthy enough without this shit crusting on his pubes and junk until they find the next clear lake to bathe in. 

Somewhere outside, rhythmic groans sound into the quiet night. 

Rinsing his penis in a corner of his tent, Eren tries to pay the noises no attention and presses his lips together when they increase. Maybe it would be easier to battle these sorts of dreams if he didn’t have reminders of what he did with Levi following him everywhere, even beyond the Walls. 

Emptying the canteen, he fetches a towel and starts to dress. As he closes the buttons on his fly whilst looking around for his boots, his foot knocks against something solid and light lying between his bedsheets. His heart stops. The tea caddie. Levi’s tea caddie. 

Eren plops to the floor, arse protesting at the impact. His hand closes around the can, thumb rubbing over one of the edges as the previous night comes back to him. 

Gone. The tea is truly gone. 

And Eren hit Armin. In his face. 

Swallowing bile at the renewed sensation of his fist smashing Armin’s chin to pulp, he recalls the thunderstruck look on Armin’s features when he held his broken jaw. 

What follows are the echoes of his own hurtful words to make Armin leave, and Eren rubs his face. 

First Levi’s friendship. Now this. 

What has he done? And why? Eren didn’t even say sorry. All he did was push Armin away. 

Armin must hate him for what he did. He should. 

Shoulders hunching at a pang in his rebelling heart, Eren bites his lip. 

As much as Armin should be angry with him, Eren cannot lose another friend. Apologise—he has to apologise. He can’t go to Levi and say he’s sorry for what he’s done. It’s too complicated, and Eren wouldn’t know where to start. Yet he can leave his tent, go to Armin and apologise for a broken jaw. It’s twenty steps away, and besides… 

It’s high time to make amends. 

*

“Eren?” Armin’s sleepy mumble comes from inside his tent. 

Eren pokes his head through the opening and freezes, his question whether he can come inside dying on its way out. “What are you doing here?” he asks instead, glowering at the yawning person who definitely isn’t Armin. 

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Jules’ voice says as she sits up. “Rising early today? And it’s rather obvious, don’t you think?” 

She appears to wear nothing, and after blinking at two exposed breasts, Eren shuts his eyes. Heat bursts in his neck, and he turns his head as he tries to remember why he’s here. “Er…sorry, I’m…eh,…” 

Armin sighs, yet to Eren’s surprise, his voice is soft. “Would you leave us alone for a bit, Jay?”

Eren’s eyes fly open.  _ Jay? _

“Of course,” she says. “Have to piss anyway. Would you like me to come back?”

Armin hums. “If you want.” 

Kisses sound in the morning, and Eren wishes he hadn’t come here. This can’t be happening! 

To make it worse, Jules– Jay…whatever…stands bare as she is, and Eren looks away again as she pushes her way past him closer than necessary. He so does not want to see this. So not! “Can’t you at least put some clothes on, please?”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable? Or are you worried I can’t defend myself out in the wild?” Silver shines in the dark as she lifts a blade to her lips. Probably her butterfly knife. “I’m a big girl, darling. And surrounded by soldiers. No need to protect me. Now excuse me. I’ll give you two some space.” 

She leaves the tent and shuts the flap on her way out. 

Pointing at the entrance, Eren shakes his head. “Why is she here?”

“Rude, Eren,” her chuckle comes from outside. “Thank Sina I love you anyway.” 

Armin looks in her direction before meeting Eren’s gaze. “As she said, rather obvious, don’t you think?”

“I…you…what? Since when?”

“Just for the night. We have an agreement.”

“Oh, by the Walls…” Fighting the urge to cover his ears, Eren presses his fingers against his eye sockets. He really, really hopes whoever he heard earlier wasn’t Armin doing…this with Jules. Or with anybody, in fact. That’s something he’ll never get out of his head. 

It doesn’t help at all that Levi’s sigh sounds in his head.  _ Figures. What did you expect them to do all night. Braid each other’s hair? _

_ Oh, shut up, _ he thinks back. 

“Not everyone is as uptight as you, Eren,” Armin replies, seriousness back in his voice. “Besides, it’s not like we’re making babies. You know I wouldn’t dare. Now what’s wrong?”

Easing the pressure on his eyes, Eren shakes his head, blinking against stars, blotchy colours, and the dream-renewed image of pale skin flushing beneath his hands. He wants to shout he isn’t uptight, and that Armin doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but that’s not the point. “How did you know it was me?” 

“I heard you fretting.”

“You did not!” Eren says. 

Armin shrugs. “Felt it, then. Plus, who else would hover in front of my tent, pacing a hole into the grass at…what time is it anyway?”

“Don’t know,” Eren admits. “Early.” He clears his throat, looking up from his feet. “Listen, about yesterday…”

Armin waves a hand. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Eren bursts, grimacing at the volume before lowering his voice. “I’m sorry.” Wringing his hands, he looks at Armin sitting on his makeshift bed. It feels wrong to look down. 

Eren rubs his neck and sits too, trying to ignore it smells of sex. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Don’t worry about it. It healed, right? I’m good.”

“That’s not the point, Armin,” Eren insists. “I never should have hit you.”

“Mm.” Armin frowns. “Have you eaten the stew?”

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Eren rakes a hand through his hair. “I told you I wasn’t hungry,” he says, pressing on when Armin’s silence seems to darken. “Anyway. I’ll do extra hours if you want. Or I don’t know. Take over some of the shitty work. Emptying pisspots from the sick, or digging the latrine ditch at the next camp or something…”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“I should, though. I want to, and it’s protocol anyhow.”

“I didn’t report it, Eren.”

He jerks back. “What?” 

Armin rubs his eyes and sighs before pushing a ruffled strand behind his ear. “I didn’t report it. I waited in the shadows until everything was healed before I went back. His gaze finds Eren’s, and although it’s too dark to read his face, Eren knows Armin heard him cry after he left. 

Great. 

“But…you  _ should _ punish me,” Eren insists, pressing his palms into the earthy dirt. “I hurt you.”

“Eren,” Armin says on a sigh. “Would you rather talk to Mikasa about this?”

What? “Fuck, no! How can you even ask this?”

“Then be grateful I didn’t report it and didn’t tell her about it either. It’s healed anyways. No harm done. Okay? There’s nothing to forgive.”

“But–” Eren scowls. Sometimes he doesn’t understand Armin at all. “It wasn’t right! I have to make it up somehow.”

Armin sounds tired as he replies, “If you think that, that’s great, Eren. Try to take better care of yourself. You really scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Eren says, bowing his head.

“I know. You’re my best friend.” Armin shrugs when Eren stares at him. “You don’t have to tell me I’m yours.” 

Eren frowns at the restless hands in his lap. What does Armin even mean?

He’s always thought of Armin as his best friend. They’ve known each other since they were little. They witnessed each others’ milk teeth wobble and showed them to each other when they fell out, wild fascination written all across their tooth-gapped grins. Without Armin, Eren wouldn’t be alive, nor would Armin be alive if it weren’t for Eren. They made plans about seeing the big wide world before they even could think further than the radius of their childhood homes. They’re  _ family. _ Shouldn’t that alone make them best friends? 

Sighing, Armin reaches out to squeeze Eren’s wrist. “Stop worrying about this. All right? Get some rest. And send Jay in again so we can go back to sleep too.” He releases Eren and fluffs up his pillow before lying down with a yawn. “I bet it’s not even three.” 

Eren blinks, sniffs, and rises to his feet, knees feeling numb. His palms prickle. He steps to the entrance, ready to search for a naked Jules somewhere in the night, and turns, clearing his throat. Words want to press out. 

He should stay out of this. He really should. Yet it’s Armin. Protecting him is what Eren does. Since the day they met.

“You shouldn’t fuck a friend like this, you know?” he says, feeling his pulse on the tip of his tongue as his heart speeds up. “It’s not right.”

“And what would you know about that?” Armin asks over his shoulder. Eren doesn’t see his eyebrows quirk, but he hears it in his voice.

“Right,” Eren says, stomach dropping and lungs aching. “What do I know.” 

“Eren,” Armin says. Pauses. His eyes are two shiny spots in the moonlight, and the silence seems to stretch before he asks, “That truly was the rest of the tea, wasn’t it?”

Eren swallows, suppressing a shiver at the reminder. “I still have Gunpowder.” His reply sounds weak to his own ears, and going by Armin’s frownful silence, he hears it too. “I’ll leave you two alone now,” Eren hurries to say. “If there’s anything I can do…”

“Get better,” Armin says. “Sleep. You look like a fucking shadow.”

Eren nods, feeling like he’s disappointing already. Not that it’s anything new.

*

He doesn’t go back to sleep. His blood pricks too much in his limbs to lie still, like fire burning on his inner arms, and there are plenty of chores to be done. Fetching wood for the morning fire. Preparing porridge for near one hundred mouths. Checking on Salka and stroking her warm neck. Adding finishing touches to the recent corral and map pages. Writing down what happened yesterday for his Titan symptom protocol. 

His stomach hardens into a cold lump when he notes how it felt to break Armin’s jaw. He’s done things like this before. He’s done far more horrible things too. Yet he can’t tell whether that was him last night, or some vile creature within himself taking over. It happened so fast he can’t remember lashing out, and he never thought he had it in himself to injure Armin this badly. 

Noting the thought in his log, Eren shivers under the blushing morning sky. He’s always done everything to protect Armin from harm. Eren died protecting him. Twice, more or less, and he’d do it again. What if something did take over? 

No, Eren thinks, shrugging off that thought. This was all him. He knows it was—Eren can  _ feel _ it. 

He’s been in enough rows and picked enough fights to know how it feels to hit someone when you want to. Yesterday felt the same. It was the same anger. The same red-white flashing heat. The same intention to hurt, to cause as much damage as possible. Eren felt the same satisfaction at bones crunching too. The same regret right afterwards and the question what he’s done now…how he could have fucked up so much. 

Which makes it even more horrible Armin didn’t report it. Hanji should know about this. Eren should experience some sort of punishment. 

Levi would have made him clean to work his anger off, but there isn’t much to clean here that equals scrubbing HQ’s toilets for a week. Maybe he’s been a screw-up all his life. 

He always could write to Hanji and ask to be certain. But what if she gets alarmed and orders him back? Eren can’t go back. It’s impossible. He has to see the ocean. 

Her reaction is obvious anyhow. 

She’d ask ceaseless questions that would make Eren wish he’d never brought anything up. If they were at HQ, she’d test him, then test him more, and draw harebrained conclusions that bizarrely turn out to be right yet are still unhelpful with the actual problem. 

It always was Levi who helped with whatever simmered underneath and tore at Eren’s sanity. Writing to Levi, however, is even more impossible than aborting this expedition. 

A year ago, Eren would go to him and explain what he did, and they’d handle it together. It always helped to talk to Levi, whether Levi answered or not. His silence was enough to quiet the rising panic in Eren’s head and find a way to deal with himself. No one else ever understood him as well as Levi. Not even Armin. Not even after turning into a shifter himself. 

The shiny blue lines of his report dry on the paper, and Eren looks around at the camp coming alive. Filled with comrades, yet lacking the one confidant he needs. Impossible or not, he wants to talk to Levi. 

He sniffs. Even if he hadn’t ruined their friendship, Levi is still retired from military service and wouldn’t be here with them either way. He’s days—weeks—away. Far enough for Eren to raze more than just a jaw long before Levi could slice through his nape. Even if Levi were close…

No, Eren shakes his head. Levi promised. He wouldn’t break his oath, no matter how many years have passed since they talked about this, no matter what Eren did. If Eren loses control, wherever and however far in the future, Levi will make an end to it. Levi won’t give a fuck about supposed successors regarding the Titan sources, or the country’s safety. They might disagree over much these days, but this is something Eren knows Levi to be on the exact same page as he is. 

He’d still prefer to not burden Levi with this. It would bring him into conflict with Hanji. It would ruin whatever life Levi built for himself since the war ended. It would make him into a fugitive. 

Eren won’t let it come that. He just has to make sure he doesn’t lose his shit. 

What did Levi always say? Breathe, visualise your fear, and focus on a single thought and purpose. 

Eren breathes. Closes his eyes. 

Swallowing, he envisions the empty, dawn-lit space beside him. A shadow stands there. A figure. A man…a monster. Visible to no one but himself. 

It looms over him. Standing behind him in a blind spot. He knows what it looks like. Hair wild, eyes furious, mouth, teeth and hands bloody. Dark. As if it were sucking up every bit of light there ever was and will be.

It’s been a while since it was this close. Near enough for Eren’s hackles to rise, right there above his prickling nape. It sends a chill down his spine, whispering to him he should give up. To stop fighting. Eren can’t let it win. He never can. He grinds his jaw. 

Keeping this shadow at bay was always easier with Levi around. Up to this day, Eren never figured out why but it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that Levi is stronger than Eren’s fear. 

A green cloak appears before Eren’s inner eye, familiar and assuring, blades glinting in a soothing warranty to protect. Some days it felt like the sight alone was all that kept Eren together. Nothing seems to have changed that. 

_ Fuck, I miss you, _ he thinks, feeling his heart shatter at the thought.  _ I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.  _

The cloak is replaced by the memory of steady grey eyes.  _ You know what to do. _

A purpose. Eren has to focus on a purpose. 

That’s easy. He’s only got one purpose left. 

“I’ll see the ocean with Armin,” he says. “I’ll keep my promise.”

“Big words, my friend. You know Armin postponed surveying for a day though, don’t you?”

Snapping his log shut, Eren whips around. A knot forms in his guts when Connie emerges from Sasha’s tent. 

Great. Has everyone lost their bloody mind on this trip? And Armin postponed surveying? What the hell!

_ For me, _ Eren thinks as his creasing eyebrows darken his vision.  _ Armin did it because of me.  _ As if they didn’t coddle him enough already. Mikasa will be insufferable all day. 

He scowls. “What do you want?”

“A morning kiss?” Connie asks. 

Eren jerks his chin at Sasha’s tent and stands. “I think you already got that.”

“Aw, man, don’t go.” Connie grins, arms outstretched. He looks far too happy and relaxed. “The morning is cold and lonely without you!” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

Remaining unperturbed, Connie grins. “Is that a no, my love?”

Eren gives him the finger. He needs to get the fuck out of here. And with an entire free day on his hands, he knows exactly what he’ll do. 

*

“No.” Armin shakes his head. “No one goes out alone. We don’t know what’s out here.”

“I just want to bathe her,” Eren says, gesturing at Salka coming to a halt by his side.

At the word ‘bathe’ she nudges his shoulder with a gentle snuffle against his ear before shaking her head. Eren pats her neck in a soothing gesture.  _ We’ll go. Just give me a moment. _

Closing his surveying notebook, Armin doesn’t look like he’s going to give in. His eyebrows are drawn together, and he somehow looks bigger than he is. He also still looks paler than usual. “I didn’t decide we’d start working a day later so you could put yourself in danger.”

_ No, _ Eren thinks, nails of his free hand biting into his palm.  _ You only decided that to keep a better eye on me. _ Eren won’t give him the chance. 

He hasn’t asked for any special treatment since they left HQ, and he wouldn’t ask for this now if he hadn’t been caught on his way out. Considering how Armin seems to be everywhere lately, Eren wonders whether he developed a similar sixth sense regarding him as Mikasa has. 

“It’s just a bath, Armin,” he says, wanting to curse about this stupid Never Alone rule. “I don’t need anyone holding my hand during that. And with the free day, I might as well go.” 

At his last words, Salka starts to move, and he pulls on her reins, heart twisting as she neighs in protest with another shake of her head. “She needs this, Armin. She hasn’t been in the water for too long. Her skin gets itchy, and I need to properly wash myself too. I slept in the dirt all night.”

Raising an eyebrow, Armin looks at him, and Eren grinds his teeth. One exhausted hour of depletion followed by another two hours of dream-ridden rest hardly account for the entire night, but he doesn’t give a fuck about semantics right now. 

“I don’t know, Eren,” Armin says. He scratches his head, causing a blond strand to fall out of his half-ponytail. “Give me until afternoon, and I’ll come with you. Or ask Niv, Connie, or Jean–”

“No.” Eren grimaces at himself when Armin frowns at the interruption. “I don’t need a babysitter. Mikasa will do that enough once we get back anyhow. I just need to be alone for a while to clear my head.” 

“You’re alone all day, Eren.”

“I’m never ever alone,” he bursts, arm flying at his side as a grim sound escapes his lungs. “There’s always someone nearby, fussing over me, or telling me what to do, or trying to cheer me up, and then I ruin their day because I don’t fucking want any of it. And it’s not like I ask for much. The stream is ten minutes away by foot at most, people can see me from the hilltop, and it’s too hot all day, so I doubt we’ll be alone for long anyway soon as breakfast is over.” 

Heads turn at his outburst, and Eren swallows hard, taking a calming breath. “Please. I feel like shit. This fucking dirt is everywhere, and the grime in my hair is driving me mad.” He rubs his sternum and admits, “I feel like we’re living in the ghetto again.” 

Blue eyes search his with the same pitying look everyone seems to have in his presence lately, yet eventually, Armin sighs. “You have a flare gun with you?” 

“What do you think! That I’m suicidal?”

Armin pinches his mouth, yet after some quiet seconds, his shoulders sag. “Be back in an hour. Otherwise, we’ll check on you.” 

Eren grinds his teeth. Armin knows an hour is ridiculous. He’ll need at least two hours to do it right. But then Armin looks at him, and Eren’s knuckles tingle where they met Armin’s face a few hours ago, and he nods. He won’t win this argument. Not with Armin. Not today. Plus, if they miss mothering him so much, they can make sure he’ll be back on time themselves. 

“All right,” he says, patting Salka’s neck and guiding her along. “See you then.”

He can feel Armin’s gaze following them all the way out of the camp, until they are out of sight. 

*

The rivulet awaits them with water gurgling over its stone-rich bed and little critters buzzing in the brown-parched grass. 

Releasing Salka of her load—cleaning bucket and grooming supplies, bundled-up spare clothes for himself, emptied canteens, weaponry, and jizzed nightwear to wash—Eren lets her drink before setting to work. They haven’t had a stream deep enough to wade in to their knees or tame enough to not be swept away for weeks, but this will do. 

He slips out of his boots, wades into the calf-deep stream, and fills the bucket with water. Setting it aside, he takes the dandy brush, and when Salka whinnies in excitement, his heart eases for the first time in days. 

“You missed that, didn’t you?” he says, stroking her neck when she puffs delighted air into his face. “Yeah, I missed it too. Come on. Hold still now. Brushing first.” 

She shakes her head with a whinnied protest, and he pinches her ear. 

“No, still. Or do you want me to tie you up, hm?” He doesn’t usually have to. She loves this routine far too much, to the point she nags him if he doesn’t do it thoroughly. It’s been too long since the last time, though, and she’s been as antsy as himself. 

She snuffles, pleading eyes blinking at him. 

“Then behave.” He waits until she huffs, then starts to brush. 

He’s reached her shoulder when she nibbles at his hair, and he sighs. “Yes, I know you love me,” he says, free hand gently pushing her face away. “Don’t know why, but thanks.”

Winding out of his touch, she nibbles some more, soft lips rubbing over his ear before she obediently bows her head. 

“Good girl,” Eren says and continues with the combing. “I know it itches. I itch too. Will be over soon, okay? I’m just getting some final dust off.”

There isn’t much dirt left to loosen. He already went through their daily grooming routine yesterday after pitching his tent. Yet she likes it, and the trained sweeping movements always relax Eren too. Today the desired reprieve takes longer to settle over him. Another double set of slow strokes over Salka’s big shoulder and ribs for his breath to relax. An extra pat to her warm muscular neck for his pulse to not hurt anymore. An additional minute of rubbing her flank for his body to forget how tired it is and for his tensed jaw to slacken. 

Waiting for the calmness to envelop him, he takes his time scrubbing her down, watching the bristles shining up her chestnut hair in the morning sun as he works. First her left side, then the right. All legs clockwise at the end before switching the dandy brush for the wide-toothed comb and untangling Salka’s dark mane. 

His fingers unsnarl a knot in her tail when the subliminal noise in Eren’s ears abates. Dragging in a long breath of relief, he combs-out near-black hair and sighs as he soaks up the moment. 

It’s quiet here. No buzz of endless conversations that hurt his head. No laughing that makes him want to close his ears as he tries to assess where and when his own spirit died. No noises coming from the other tents, no snoring, coughing, farting, groaning, or people screaming in their sleep. No Mikasa driving him up the wall. Only bees and crickets humming in the air, water purling by their side, and Salka cropping grass with gentle snuffles. 

Closing his eyes, Eren lets his mind wander. 

They’re at HQ, and it’s just another lazy summer day. Levi is nearby, slipping Meraki a sugar cube when he thinks no one is looking, and grumbling about not needing fucking sugar himself when Eren calls him out on it. They’ll scrub and wash their horses until their fingers are pruned, and then Levi will insist they could just as well continue with scrubbing HQ too. By the end of the day, Eren will be sore from head to toe, and war or not, he’ll think life couldn’t get any better.

But he isn’t at HQ. And if he doesn’t hear Levi’s voice again soon, his real voice, he’ll forget how to recall it too, just as his smile. 

“I miss cleaning, you know,” he mumbles, finishing the combing with a few strokes of Salka’s forelock. “And proper training. And tea. I miss so much…” he frowns as his voice fails him and the previous evening pushes its way into his thoughts. 

The shadow is still near too. Eren has to fight it back. 

“I did something bad again,” he says after a while. “I hit my best friend yesterday.” His heart sends a heavy kick against his ribs, and he frowns. “My oldest friend,” he corrects himself, and the admission hits him like a blow to the head. 

He’s never thought of it like this before, but Armin was right. It doesn’t matter how things should be. If the world worked like wishful thinking, it would be a better place, and it’s not like Eren can choose who understands him best and makes him feel most at ease. He only wishes he could have figured that out before he drove Levi away. Maybe it would have made a difference. 

Eren rubs his chest. “I don’t know why they even bother with me.”

Salka nuzzles his chin. 

“Of course, I apologised,” he says, nudging her nose down to refocus on her fringe. “This time, anyway. That doesn’t make it go away though.” His hand sinks. “It doesn’t change anything. I still did it.” 

Her tail flicks. 

“I don’t even know why,” he admits, freeing the comb of some loosened horse hairs. “But he wanted to take the caddie, Salka.” He bites his lip. “I emptied the Assam yesterday. It’s gone now.” 

Swallowing, he pats her nose and brushes soft strands out of her kind eyes. “It’s only a day, and it already feels like it was never there.” 

He clears his throat. “Anyway. Armin tried to take it, and…I don’t know. I snapped. I hurt him really bad. If he wasn’t a shifter…” he stops, voice leaving him again. 

“He didn’t even report me.”

Salka snuffles. 

“I know,” he says. “Seems like I can’t stop screwing up.” 

The thought brings him back to Levi, and chills Eren to the bones. 

A succession of wildly tumbling images and sensations flood his senses—grey eyes from up close, his body crumbling, lips searching, hands grabbing, and  _ please-please-yes!’s _ wailed into a sunset-lit room as his body seemed to come alive. As always, it ends in remembering his own panic, his flight from Levi’s room, and Levi’s regretful face when they looked at each other the next morning. 

How often Eren wanted to apologise to Levi too. He tried. So many times. Tried to open his mouth and say something, anything that might mend what he broke. Nothing ever came, aside from the reverberating screams in his head. 

_ Sorry that I kissed you. Sorry that I liked how your hands felt and that I thought I could undress you too. Sorry that it felt so good. Sorry that I begged for more. Sorry that I didn’t know what I did until it was too late. Sorry that I couldn’t even leave without making a mess. Sorry that I left behind a sock. I didn’t mean to. _

_ Sorry that I put you in this position. Sorry that I hurt you.  _

_ I never wanted to betray your trust.  _

He’s never told anyone what happened that night. No one except Salka. 

“I dreamt about it again,” he confesses, running the damp cleaning rag over her left cheek. “I wish it would finally stop. Or at least be about somebody else. He’s my friend.” 

He swallows, washcloth squishing in his hand. “Why did it feel so…” Brows drawing together, Eren shudders. He doesn’t even know how to describe it. It should have felt wrong. It should have felt bad. It never was supposed to feel that  _ necessary _ . That good.

They embraced, and the next thing Eren remembers is thinking he’ll die should they stop kissing and not close the distance between them until there was nothing left. He wanted it,  _ needed _ it. More than he ever needed anything in his life. The mere thought is petrifying. Eren doesn’t even like sex! He never liked it. It’s violent and destructive. It hurts and abases. Proves how monstrous a person can be. It rips apart friends and families, causes so much pain…and for what? Look at what it did to him and Levi. 

It must be different when you’re in love with one another. At least Eren hopes so for all the couples out there, thinks he has seen it in their eyes when they look at each other with nothing but adoration. But he and Levi aren’t like that. They never were. So why did it happen? 

Nine months have passed, almost to the day, and Eren still doesn’t have an answer. 

“I still don’t know why he kissed back,” he whispers to Salka, thinking of Levi’s lips hovering before his own, waiting, silently asking if he was sure. 

“Maybe he didn’t even want to.” It would explain why Levi couldn’t look at him the next day, if not the actual why. “He never does anything he doesn’t want. But he was weird that evening. I’ve never seen him like this. He looked so…”

Spooked, he thinks, recalling Levi’s eyes right before they kissed. Levi looked spooked. Ashen and glossy-eyed, and he tried to hide the fact his hands trembled that entire afternoon too.

“Not that it matters,” Eren adds. “It was a mistake. My mistake.” 

_ Maybe,  _ he thinks as he wrings out the rag in the bucket,  _ maybe it would be easier to finally apologise if I didn’t keep dreaming about it. _

He doesn’t understand why these dreams about Levi torture him, let alone this often. They defile their friendship, insult Levi, and vitiate every attempt of getting back to how they were before. Eren can’t count the times he woke up like he did this morning, and the worst thing of it all is his skin always burns the entire day afterwards, like venom running through his veins. It gives him goosebumps.

He tried to scratch the sensation off until his arms bled and his nails scraped over muscle and bone some months ago. Only to watch them steam and heal right back to how they were. Aching and hostile things, pretending to be human. 

He won’t repeat what they did. It hurt Levi, made him regret, and they’re friends. Best friends. At least they were, and Eren misses him. Not just for his guidance, but as a comrade and someone who Eren could raise a smile from. Someone to talk to at the end of the day. Someone to laugh with. Someone to feel safe with…to feel strong with.

It should be easy to gather his courage and just fucking say,  _ I’m sorry. It’s not how it is between us, not how it should be. I won’t throw myself at you again. You’re the most important person in my life. Please, take me back.  _

However, what if he snaps again? Of course, Eren doesn’t want to, but he hit Armin without wanting to, and he never thought about Levi like this before it happened either. 

It doesn’t matter everything within him screams,  _ Wrong, what I did is wrong!  _ Apologising like this…promising it will never happen again when he can’t vouch for himself, when he can’t trust himself…it feels like a lie. 

Levi deserves better. He deserves honesty. The truth. And someone he really wants. 

It’s why Eren left, aside from intending to keep his promise to Armin. It’s also why it’s best Eren stays away before he hurts Levi more than he already did. 

“I’ve done nothing but screw up for years, Salka,” Eren mumbles. “But you know that. Don’t you?”

Salka’s gentle snuffles add to the gurgle of the water and the buzz of little critters nearby, and Eren sighs, scratching his hurting neck. Maybe he really did heal together the wrong way a couple of times. Or, perhaps, he just never was right to begin with.

Salka whinnies and pulls Eren back to the present. 

“I really hate being on the road, you know?” he whispers. Then he sniffs and tends back to their cleaning ritual. With a whole day filled with surveying tomorrow, he’d better do it good. 


	3. Copper and Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also comes with an accompanying sparkle of beautiful artwork by the lovely [L-leonhardt](https://l-leonhardt.tumblr.com/post/185980794200/it-truly-stretches-all-the-way-to-the-horizon).

“You still don’t look good,” Armin says. His eyes are fixed on the theodolite as he adjusts the objective to refocus on a spot ahead. 

Rubbing his sore eyes, Eren sighs and wipes sweat out of his brow. It’s another too hot day, and the sunscreen they set up around their work station seems to trap the heat rather than shield them from it. 

Despite the blazing heat, humidity is heavy in the air, attracting midges that bite whatever they can find. Looking at the healing steam rising from him and Armin in relentless little plumes, Eren has a suspicion they prefer Titan blood.

“Didn’t sleep too well,” he grumbles and crosses out a wrong set of numbers before scribbling down the right measurements Armin dictated. 

When Eren was young, he thought exploring the world would be adventurous. He would see amazing things, mountains of fire, seas of ice, oceans and exotic animals no one ever dreamed of. In the end, it’s a fair amount of running around with finicky tools, lots of sitting still, brooding over algebra, and drawing diligent lines on paper with compass and ruler. It’s dull as fuck. 

“You haven’t slept well for a while,” Armin says. “Or eaten enough.”

“Did Mikasa put you up to this?” Eren asks over his shoulder. 

It’s a challenge to get sleep when the moment he closes his eyes gentle pale hands roam all across his body and a deep voice he almost can’t recall during daytime whispers sinful things into his ear. Fortunately, he cleaned his underwear two days ago. He never had these sort of dreams in such a quick succession before—not without nightmares in-between. 

Not that he misses those. His stomach feels queasy enough without them. 

Wheels squeak as Armin works. “This has nothing to do with her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t wait for her to nag someone else to bring it up.”

“So you do admit she’s stepping over a line.” Eren grins. 

Armin’s blue eyes meet his and twinkle as he says, “She’s a pain in my arse. As you know.” 

Eren snorts. “I swear it’s getting worse each month.” 

“You might be right with that. I’m still concerned too, you know,” Armin says. “And I won’t tell you what to do. It’s just…you look like shit, Eren.”

“Well, so do you today,” Eren replies, regarding the bruises beneath Armin’s eyes. “You wanna talk about that?” He swats at a mosquito, triumph blooming in his chest when it remains a crushed carcass in his hand, bloody and broken. 

One beast down, only a gazillion to go. 

Armin shrugs. “We can if you want. Last night, I dreamt of Berthold crushing my parent’s house and feeling all good about it. The bug bites are infuriating and draining the fuck out of me, no matter how much I like being here. I have one of these migraines that don’t really hurt but push on my eyes. An overbearing ideologue shadows me with the urge to feed and best of all nurse me like I’m her offspring, and my best friend looks like he needs help. So what about you? Something you want to share?”

Pulling a face, Eren glances across the slope where Mikasa assists Kay with surveying. She says something before looking up, meeting Eren’s gaze. They must be over one hundred meters apart, and yet Eren feels her,  _ are you two drinking enough? _ shooting off her like darts. 

Eren holds her gaze and pointedly doesn’t react. “Maybe she and Jean should finally fuck after all and start making babies,” he mumbles when Mikasa wheels the waywiser forward. It’s a disturbing thought but maybe it would divert her attention enough to keep her out of Eren’s hair. “It would put her off the rag for nine months too, if we’re lucky.”

“Poor child,” Armin says dryly. He smacks his arm, and Eren hopes he caught another one of the gnats. “Don’t deflect.”

Slumping in his foldable chair, Eren heaves a sigh and scratches his head with the pencil. “I just feel like shit out here. The dirt is everywhere…even washing it out of my tent won’t get rid of it, and no matter how tired I am, I can’t really sleep.”

Armin hums. “Memories keeping you awake?” 

“No.” It’s not a lie. Not really anyway. Armin means it differently.

“Symptoms?”

“No.” 

“Because of the tea again?”

“I just sleep like shit, okay?” Eren snaps, fist clenching tight around the pencil in his grip until the fracturing wood sends a splinter into his thumb. He lets it prick deeper when steam curls from the wound. “No memories, no symptoms, just fucking bad dreams. Now let’s get back to determining the distance to that stupid peak you love so much so we can pack things up and move to the next place to do this same shit all over again, shall we?” 

He can feel Armin’s gaze sliding to him with a frown before the blue eyes tend back to their task. 

The answer comes with a shrug alongside a quiet “Okay,” and Eren closes his eyes on a silent exhale. 

None of this is Armin’s fault. 

“Sorry,” he says, ruffling his hair and grimacing at its greasiness. The effects of his scrubbing down at the streamlet didn’t last longer than a handful of hours. By noon he was sticky with sweat again, and dust had begun to reconquer his damp skin and hair. At least Salka has felt better the past days. The shadow has waned as well, if only a little. 

“I shouldn’t have yapped at you,” he says. 

Armin shrugs. “It’s all right.” 

“No, it really wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“It wasn’t, no,” Armin says, mouth twitching in a forgiving smile before he nods at the papers before Eren. “Fifteen point eight.”

Eren forces a weak smile in return and takes the note. 

“I’m just worried, Eren,” Armin repeats after a while, hiding back behind the theodolite’s eyepiece. As if to let Eren decide whether he should answer when they both know Armin won’t let this go. He’s talking in his reasonable, lowered voice, as if soothing an upset animal. Like Eren talks to Salka when she’s scared. 

He clears his throat, scowling at the calculations. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.” Armin lifts his gaze to peer at the horizon before looking through the spyglass again. “You don’t look like it. You certainly weren’t two days ago. And I know you don’t want to talk about whatever it is, but I’m not asking you to. None of us are. I just want to know whether we should send you back.”

“No!” Eren’s head shoots up from his notes. “No,” he says again. “We’ve come so far already. I promised you–”

“Ten years ago, Eren.” 

“The last time I remember was five years ago,” Eren argues before he can rein the words in. The moment they are out, his chest pangs, and he seems to run out of air; as always when he thinks about Shiganshina. Images tumble over him, flood his lungs with the scents of blood, rotting flesh, and his own vomit, followed by a cacophony of alien memories, the sight of Armin shifting for the first time, and the wish to render and kill. 

Fighting his way through it, he gulps to find back to his voice. “I’m just saying, I won’t break a promise just because some time has passed.” 

Armin’s voice is brimming with composure. “I know. But I wouldn’t want you to follow me forever and deprive yourself of fulfilment because of a dreamy childhood promise, Eren. You could spend your time better.” 

The words are like a slap in his face. Ten years…ten years has Eren worked forward to this expedition. He bled and fought, he gave his  _ life _ for it—he gave Armin his and cursed him with the consequences. What’s Armin even saying here? That it was all in vain? That this, this entire mission, is all for nothing? All this pain and leaving Levi behind and feeling like crap and lonely for half a year…for nothing? 

“Spend my time better?” Eren bursts. His nostrils flare. “And how would that be, huh?”

“I don’t know.” Armin shrugs, unfazed. “With something you actually like to do.”

“Right,” Eren huffs. “Because there’s so much of that left.”

What he likes to do…he likes running with the wind. He likes to train and to have a purpose. He likes to clean and to sleep in a real bed. A solid one he doesn’t have to wrap up and pack onto Salka nearly every day. He once liked to play chess too, but he shoves that thought away. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Sorry you’re stuck with me.” 

Armin rolls his eyes. “I never said I’m stuck with you.”

“You said–”

“That you don’t look well,” Armin says. “And that I’m worried whether the road is the right place for you, that’s all.” Candid apology enlarges his blue eyes, placating Eren before Armin speaks on. “Besides, you know I’m glad you’re here. You’re the only one who can make sense of my calculation notes.”

“I highly doubt that,” Eren mutters, but can’t stop the faint smile from twitching in his cheeks when Armin grins. 

“I know you miss home,” Armin says, looking back through the spyglass as his hands work on the little wheels at its side. “I know you miss  _him_.” 

Stomach tightening into a leaden ball, Eren resists the urge to curl together on his foldable chair. It’s the first time anyone called him out on it for weeks. They all dodge the subject or Levi entirely in his presence since he yelled at Jean to keep his fat ugly mouth shut one April night during dinner. He doesn’t know why the remark Eren was more fun with Levi around ticked him off this much, but he came close to breaking Jean’s nose a second time. 

Not that it is a revelation to hear it. Of course, he misses Levi. He has been missing Levi since the morning they left. Longer even—Eren has been missing him from the moment he fled from Levi’s bed in November. He didn’t want to burden anyone with this ache. Yet it truly must show. 

When did they all start speaking of Levi as if he was Eren’s spouse or something anyway? He’s always implied in conversation without anyone ever having to use his name. A year ago, it felt natural. 

“We have no home, Armin,” Eren says, feeling drained. “Besides, he doesn’t want me there.”

Armin’s hands fall from the theodolite. “What? Where did you get that idea from?”

Shoulders drawing up, Eren bites his lip. He already said too much. “It doesn’t matter.”

Armin scrunches his nose. Eren can tell by the kind of silence without having to look. The interrogation isn’t over. His arms itch, feeling foreign. 

“Is this because of Annie?”

“It has nothing to do with fucking Annie!” His fist slams on the table before he presses trembling fingers into his eye sockets to keep more hurtful words inside. If anyone has the right to ask about Annie, it’s Armin. If their roles were reversed, Eren would have plenty of questions too. The mere thought makes his nape prickle.

_ Don’t do this, _ he hears Levi’s words from December, strained from yelling after he heard what Eren was about to do. Eren had never seen him this furious.  _ Don’t do it, _ he said again.  _ It’s not worth it.  _

It was the first time he looked Eren in the eye after weeks of avoidance. The only time. Up until their departure from HQ at least when he gave Eren the Assam and said goodbye. Still, Eren didn’t listen, and faced with the same situation, the same order from above, he’d do it all over again.

Picking up the pencil, Eren blinks through starry vision and pushes the memory away. “Eating her has nothing to do with it,” he says more calmly as he meets Armin’s frown. “He just doesn’t want me around. Not anymore.”

Armin’s eyes narrow as a reaction flits across his face, too quick to identify. His voice is careful and quiet. “I think you’re wrong there, Eren.”

A dark laugh bursts out. “Believe me. He’s off better this way. I’ve caused him enough trouble.”

“Eren–”

“Leave it, okay? Tell me the next measurements before it gets too late to pack up and move camp. I can’t stand the sun in this tent anymore.” 

Armin presses his lips together and nods. “Forty-two point sixteen.”

*

Later that week, the rain comes. 

It starts with thick blobs splashing on the waggons in an uneven and downpour-promising drip-drip-drop, making them hasten setting up camp. 

By the time Eren secures his tent with the final peg hammered into the soft ground, his clothes are soaked through—sweat-rinsed yet now mud-smeared from kneeling in the dirt. 

It may be imagination, but the rain tastes salty too. 

Salka looks at him with her infinitely kind eyes, ears flicking as if to prompt him into his makeshift home. Eren fetches his oil-cloth-wrapped bundle along with her tack, and obeys. 

Inside, the air is muggy, and the weather beats its ceaseless rhythm onto the canvas, telling him voiceless stories of falling from the clouds as he settles on his side of the floor. 

If raindrops had feelings, Eren muses, maybe they’d enjoy it down here. Maybe they observed everything from afar, yearning to be a part of it and anxious about being released, eager to roll around in the dirt with the rest of them. Or, perhaps, they looked down from above, feeling safe and wanting for nothing, before some higher force decided they had to be thrown out. They had to go, plummet out of paradise, and crash into pieces before being trampled by life going its mindless way. 

Sometimes Eren wonders whether he’s still dropping, or whether he’s long been crushed. Raindrops, at least, will rise again, kissed by the sun to morph back into clouds. 

Eren will never kiss again. It only destroys everything. 

The patter-pat-pat on the ceiling increases to a drumming climax. Someone outside—it sounds like Sasha—laughs, and Eren pushes a hand through his sopping fringe before closing his tent. 

Levi would frown if he were here. He’d glare at the sky, raindrops splashing on his face, and pinch his mouth as if his obvious contempt could will away the wetness pouring from above. 

It’s senseless to fend that image off, and Eren’s fingers move on their own, searching for the tea caddie. The Assam remains gone, of course. The scent though, the scent persists in the tin. All Eren has to do is open it and drag the bliss into his lungs. He can taste it already. Tangy and rich. Uplifting and warming. Grounding. 

The flap of his tent opens when he has the caddie in his hands, and his muscles tense, preparing for a fight.

“You looked pale all day,” Mikasa says. 

“Fuck off,” he says, putting the caddie away, yet not quick enough. 

“I thought you emptied it,” Mikasa says. 

“What do you want?” 

She sniffs. “Is it the symptoms?” she asks, folding her arms. Her wet hair clings to her brow and cheeks. Her grey eyes are sharp with concern. Lately it hurts to look at them. “Armin wouldn’t say. You should take the pain killers if it’s your head. You’ve been pulling at your hair more often again.”

He rolls his eyes and pushes past her, stepping out into the downpour, Mikasa hot on his heels. “Are you running a tally list, or what? Leave me be, Mikasa. I don’t need your advice on this.”

Her boots smack across the rain-drenched grass. “Hanji said to report if it gets worse. At least send you back with an escort if you get real sick, or abort if we have to. Should we head back?”

“What! Fuck no!” He turns, crowding her personal space. Why does everyone keep asking this?

This is Armin’s journey. Armin’s—he deserves this. Needs this. Just as Eren needs it to pay his dues. He has to make at least this right. It’s not Mikasa’s right to interfere with this. That aside, it’s not like they’re on this expedition because of him. 

“We’re on a military mission, for fuck’s sake,” he hisses. “You’re a soldier. Act like one. I’m fucking fine. All right! And what are you gawping at, huh?” he snaps at a pair of new recruits, who close their mouths and scurry away. Probably to fuck. It’s what seems to be on almost everybody’s mind on this godforsaken trip. As if they didn’t have work to do. As if sex didn’t destroy everything as well.

Mikasa doesn’t budge as rain runs down her face. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, Eren.”

“Oh, please, look who’s talking, will you.” He turns without waiting for an answer, huffing a satisfied sigh when her steps seize at his back. He’s being an arse, he knows he is. He doesn’t need her reminder to know what a failure he is, though. 

“Where are you going?” her quiet voice whispers through the rain. 

Feet speeding into a jog, Eren doesn’t answer. He has no fucking clue. 

*

He shouldn’t be out here on his own. He only carries one jackknife with him, and it is against the rules. Now that he’s started to move, he can’t stop, however.

Running always helps him think. 

It’s not as good as cleaning, but it beats pacing around in the confinement of the camp. At least the rain puts a damper on the blazing heat. It’s still in the earth and in the air, sweltering and sticky, but it lost its skin-breaking dryness. 

The shower also smothers the ever-present noise in his head, leaving only the rain’s hiss, Eren’s ragged breath, and the smacking of his feet whenever they hit soggy ground. 

The grass should be greener here, he muses, frowning at the brown-seared blades rushing by. The sky should be wider too, bluer. Higher. It is the same like within the Walls. It was during his first expedition, and it still is now. The grass is the same everywhere. There is only one sky, one sun, one land. It doesn’t change all of the sudden simply by crossing a man-made border into the unknown.

People still get ill here. They still get hungry and violent and bored, they’re still irritable and their shit comes, looks and smells just as it did where they left. Wishes don’t come true, whatever they may be. Tea runs out, and there’s no way to restock it. Broken things remain broken, carry on as they may. 

It’s stupid, really. In hindsight, every single expedition he’s been on should have taught him that lesson, and yet, there seems to have been a little grain of foolish hope left. Only an idiot would honestly believe it would be different to leave for a place further than the horizon. As if the great beyond held answers to questions Eren still can’t put into words, even after all these months. They seem to tumble over whenever he tries, drowning one another in a cacophony of howls.

Why does he have to be such a screw-up? Why can’t he keep his impulses under control? Why does he never think before leaping? Why did he kiss Levi that day? Why did Levi kiss him? Why did it have to feel so good? Why can’t he forget Levi’s taste…his sighs, his moans, his little hisses when they undressed? Why didn’t he realise it was a mistake until it was too late? What did he do to make Levi regret what happened? Why does it hurt so much? How can he make it all better? How did life start to feel so very wrong? 

When will it finally end?

Liquid copper floods his mouth, and he frowns before he realises his nose is bleeding. He comes to a panting standstill, wipes his upper lip, and scowls at the rain-diluted red on the back of his scarring hand. He feels his cheeks. The scars bulge there too.

One day until his next serum dose. 

“Shit,” he curses, wipes his nose once more and checks on his hand. It’s red again. The crimson threatening to run down his wrist. 

“Oh, no. Nonono, please, no.” He sniffs, shaking fingers fumbling for the handkerchief hidden in his pocket. 

If he smears his clothes, Jean will ask questions, and Mikasa will convince Armin they have to go back. Eren can’t let her. Whatever Armin might say, he has to see the ocean. Eren  _ promised. _ If he doesn’t see it now, he would return simply to leave again for yet another expedition. He can’t do this again…he simply can’t! 

“Please, stop bleeding,” he mumbles, pressing the delicate fabric against his nose with a stifled sob. “I’m sorry…” 

The handkerchief will never be spotless again. Not with the rain keeping his blood from steaming away. Not unless he bleaches it which will ruin the tiny grey ‘L’ at the bottom right corner. 

Eren wanted to return the handkerchief in March. He put it into his pocket that morning to hand it back as he should have when he was fifteen, and in the end failed even in that. What if Levi asks him to return it and sees the blood…he can’t know about the symptoms. Levi is kind, so kind. He’ll want to help, even though he can’t, and Eren will taint his life more than he already has. Levi deserves to be free of this burden. Shouldn’t have to continue worrying about Eren like he used to. Even if Levi should still be living at HQ and not be gone from Eren’s life for good. 

Eren shudders. What if Levi has? What if Eren screwed up so much, Levi even left Hanji behind? She wrote about him, but that doesn’t mean anything. What if Eren never sees him again? What if he never has the chance to right things between them and apologise, should he finally find the right words? 

Waiting for the bleeding to stop, Eren swallows another sob and closes his eyes. He has to calm down. Fast.  _ Now. _

People will ride out looking for him if he doesn’t come back soon, and they can’t find him like this. They’ll make a fuss over nothing. It  _ is _ nothing. A little nosebleed is to be expected this close to the end of a month. Him losing his shit is another thing. It is bad enough Armin caught him hyperventilating over an emptied caddie the other evening and covered it up. 

What if the Titans break out because of him losing control, and there’s no one to stop Eren? What if this is the end? How did he come to this?

He can’t stop asking himself this, and the following thoughts remain the same after months, like a shadow haunting him wherever he goes. How could he ever have hoped this trip would fix it all some way or the other? It should have been distraction. It should have been freedom. Instead, it makes everything worse. 

He hasn’t slept properly in weeks. His mind is racing day and night, moving in circles. His pulse flutters high in his chest wherever he goes too. Frightened. Trapped. His guts seem in a constant slither, his throat too tight. There is no peace for him. No new beginning. No freedom. No answer to any of his questions. 

Blinking against the rain, Eren wills one long deep breath into his stuttering lungs. Out and in again. Out and in, out and in, and again. 

There has to be some way out of it all. There must. 

The only solution he came up with so far is, he has to go home. Wherever that is. 

First, he has to get this nosebleed under control. 

“Please, stop bleeding,” he begs, releasing the pressure on his nose and spotting no fresh red on the smirched fabric when he wipes his nostrils to check. 

Rain mingles with the blood on the handkerchief, keeping the stain in place and washing it into a spreading pink soaked up by the grey embroidery and the thick seam. It’s spoiled. Ruined. 

He doesn’t know what to do with it. Stuffing it back into his pockets will leave a telltale mark on his white trousers. He has no jacket on him. Only his wet shirt sticking to his chest. 

It would be best to just leave it here, but maybe someone finds it, and looking at the muck underfoot, Eren can’t bring himself to put it there anyhow. Levi’s Assam is gone. Empty caddie aside, this ruined handkerchief is everything Eren has left to remind himself of the good days. The days with a friendship that meant more to him than his life…more than anyone’s life. And it may be broken and gone, but it still means everything. To him at least. He won’t throw it away as carelessly as he threw away Levi’s trust. 

“I’m sorry.” He sniffs again, tasting new salt. No copper this time, only pure salt. “I’m so sorry.” His thumb traces the crimson-tinged ‘L,’ and his heart weeps deep in his chest, clenching and stuttering, growing thorns that want to break him apart. 

No. He can’t throw this last precious thread away too. He folds the handkerchief into a tiny parcel, hides it in his hand, and turns around to bring it back to his tent. 

He’ll never be able to fix this. He’ll live with this regret for the rest of his life. 

And maybe, a quiet little voice whispers to him late at night, maybe he deserves it. 

*

It rains the night through, beating against Eren’s tent as he tries to find rest in the murky haze of a fitful doze. The sun is already up when the last drops trickle out, and by midday the sky is clear again, making the air so hot, Eren can watch the wetness rise in sweltering steam. 

They stay where they are instead of moving camp, checking on the horses’ hooves after the downpour, drying drenched clothes in the sun, and catching up with transferring the recent landscape measurement onto their maps. 

With the cleared vision, Armin sends out Scout groups in the late morning to pre-survey the nearby land. 

The wind seems to have changed over night, and as Eren tears at his hair over cartography, he has a feeling the rotting saltiness in the air has enhanced. It settles on his lips and mingles with his sweat as the strange birds which have been flying over their heads for days now set his nerves on edge with their eerie cries. 

Sasha fidgets at his side too. 

“Something’s different here,” she says, peeking up from her map. “You hear that?”

“Yeah. The birds sound odd,” Eren says, scowling at one of the creatures Armin calls gulls picking for crumbs at his feet. He kicks out to shoo it away. The ugly red spot at its beak looks like blood. Maybe there’s a vacated battlefield nearby, and these birds like to feast on the dead. It would explain that nauseating stench. 

“No, that’s not it.” Sasha’s ponytail flicks as she shakes her head. “And I don’t mean the midges. There’s a whisper…or a roar. Or a gush.”

Eren frowns at her. “What?”

“You seriously don’t hear that?” Her brown eyes are wide. “Mikasa?”

“No,” she says, averting her gaze from the theodolite. “Something’s in the wind. Could be the weather changing.” 

Sasha groans. “I swear, it’s like you all are deaf or something. I’ve been hearing it all day, it’s driving me crazy.” 

Squinting at the horizon, Eren strains his ears. It’s usually wise to listen to Sasha’s gut feeling, though if there is something to worry about, she’s keeping it to herself. 

Jean looks up with a frown. He’s been pouring over the compendium, transferring a small-leafed weed with yellow blossoms onto paper. Coal lines darken his neck where he scratched at mosquito bites. “Something bad?” he asks.

Sasha slumps in her seat. “I don’t know, that’s what’s annoying me most. I almost think no, though.”

“Maybe the birds have gas or something,” Eren mutters, cringing inwardly when he hears a low chuckle that isn’t there. Nor does a pair of grey eyes crinkle over tea cups in an ill-composed smile. 

“No, that’s not it,” Sasha says.

“Maybe Armin’s right and we truly are close to the ocean,” Connie says with a shrug. 

“Maybe Sash’s just finally lost her mind.” Jean snickers and dodges the pencil Sasha throws at him. 

Her eyes sparkle, freckles dancing on her nose. “After hanging out with you for ten years, what do you expect, Jean?” She winks when Eren huffs to himself. 

Jean grins. “I love you too, Sash.” 

“I know you do.” She purses her mouth and makes some kissy noises, laughing shrill into Eren’s ear when Jean throws her pencil back at her. 

Wincing at the hot pain shooting into his brain, Eren rubs his eyes. 

“Oh,” Sasha presses her hands against her mouth. “Sorry, Eren.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through the pain. He took the serum in the morning, just as Armin, but whereas Armin’s headaches have lifted, Eren’s nausea sticks around like a dog gnawing on its bone. At least no one seems to have witnessed his nose bleeding yesterday. 

Something hard nudges against his shoulder. 

“Drink,” Mikasa says.

“Yeah, because no water is the fucking problem in this sodding marsh,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes, yet grabs her canteen for a gulp.

She nods. “Have another one.”

“You want to dissolve him, Mikasa?” Connie asks with a grin. 

“Just doing what I can,” she replies, trading the canteen for a protein bar. “Have this too. I’ll check on Armin as well.” She closes the canteen and leaves for the other tent. 

Unwrapping his snack, Eren scowls at it. “Good luck, Armin.” 

Sasha smiles. “Well, you need food.” She rummages around in the bag at her feet and holds out a pear. “Wanna trade?”

Eren frowns at her generous offer and accepts. He might not much care about what he eats. It all tastes the same to him these days. But Sasha never shares food. Ever. “Thank you, Sasha.” 

She shrugs as though she couldn’t care less about giving up her delicious fruit and inhales the protein bar in his stead. “Thought it would taste better for a change. Will refresh you too.” Crumbs fly out of her mouth as she looks after Mikasa. “Is she okay, though? She’s been clucking more than usual.”

Jean sighs and leaves more charcoal marks on his neck. “Just worried.” 

Feeling their gazes on him, Eren sighs and bites into juicy pulp. At least there’s no dusty grittiness for a change. He brushes Sasha’s crumbs off the plotting table. 

Sasha smacks. “I see why. The way she does it doesn’t necessarily make it better though,” she says, and Eren wants to hug her for it.

“You want to talk to her?” Jean asks, eyebrows lifted. “Be my guest. I’ve tried.” 

Connie sneers. “Yeah, because you want to truly piss her off. Don’t you, loverboy?” 

Sasha giggles into her hands. Jean harrumphs a “fuck off.” Eren indulges in the last piece of soft pear, and feels the sugar ease one of the knots at the back of his skull. He summons a smile and hands the rest over to Sasha so she can finish the core. 

“Thanks,” he says again. 

Her eyes soften, and the pear remains vanish in her mouth, stalk and all. “Thank you too.” 

“Hey, Jean!” Tolbert calls, approaching them and waving with something in his hand. “I found this here, and Ray says he thinks you already have this catalogued, but I think he’s wrong.”

“What is it?” Jean asks. 

Eren licks sticky juice off his fingers and shields his eyes against the midday sun to have a look too. Tolbert carries a small tuft of blueish green blades which look tiny in his big hands. Little spheres bob up and down at the tips, almost like clover blossoms, if smaller and cream-white like matured dandelions. 

“Looks similar to that marrow grass we gathered,” Tolbert says. “But it’s not quite the same to me. Think Ray got them mixed up with all the other stuff.”

“Marram grass,” Eren corrects. 

“Huh?” Tolbert scratches his black-stubbled head and blinks small grey-brown eyes. “Oh. Marram grass then. Anyhow. Don’t think they’re the same. The blades look almost the same, but that one here has these little spheres at its top. The other looks more like…I don’t know. Cattails. Long and fluffy.”

“Yeah, it’s something else.” Jean motions at the neighbouring tent. “Ask Armin what it’s called and bring it back.” 

“Sure, man.” He trudges off, muttering to himself. “Marram, marram, marram…”

Ruffling his hair, Jean sighs. “Would be nice to have a reprieve on drawing soon. I swear my hand’s falling off.” He stretches his fingers before reclaiming his charcoal. “Wrist has been hurting for days now.” 

“You sure it’s from drawing, Jean?” Connie says with wiggling eyebrows, and Sasha snorts. 

“Wouldn’t you lecher want to know?” Jean retorts. 

Fighting off far too vivid images, Eren groans. “Could you please just focus on the maps?” 

Connie leans over and pokes him with his elbow. “Don’t be such a grouchy-grouch. Did a punkie bite you too hard? Begrudging Jean his little fun?” 

“Little my arse,” Jean mutters. 

“I just want to get the work done,” Eren pleads, silently adding,  _ And not think of Jean doing…well…that… _

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen soon, mate,” Jean says. His tone is grim, lacking any prior amusement, and Eren looks up in time to see him nod at an approaching set of riders. 

“Wow, they’re going fast,” Connie says, right before Nico’s voice sounds above the galloping of hooves. 

“Sergeant!” he yells, speeding up to the small congregation of work tents. “Where’s Armin?” 

“With Una,” Jean shouts back, once more gesturing at the open working tent behind them. “Should we arm up?”

Nico beams, freckles dancing all over his face as he pulls on Mickey’s reigns to make him come to a halt. “I don’t think so, Jean. We found it. We fucking found it!” 

“Found what, Nico?” Armin asks, stepping out of the tent, pencil stuck behind his ear, Una, Tolbert, and Mikasa at his side.

Mickey dances on the spot, shaking his beige mane as he snuffles. 

“Mission accomplished, Sergeant,” Nico says, and Eren’s stomach flips. Silence falls around the tents, waiting for Nico to continue. 

He grins. “We found the ocean.”

*

Eren’s heart gives out. It stops and aches. The ground beneath his feet has ceased to exist. For a moment, he thinks Nico must be pulling their legs, but his near-black eyes gleam too much, and Zander beside him can’t stop beaming either. 

It’s Sasha who snaps the tension, whooping as she throws her arms in the air, chair clattering to the ground. A moment later, she flies into Connie’s arms. “We did it! We found it!”

Eren can only gape.

“Wait,” Armin says, approaching Nico with an outstretched hand. “Where?”

“Half an hour east,” Zander says, grin as wide as Nico’s. “It’s…” he shakes his head and laughs. “You have to see for yourselves.”

“It’s fucking brilliant,” Nico says. “It’s huge and blue.” 

“As wide as the sky,” Zander says.

Nico gestures over his shoulder. “There’s lots of sand too. And waves…so many waves. Damn, I wish Tom was here to see it.”

Something inside Eren pangs, and his knees threaten to give out. The ocean. It’s real? 

He still stares when Sasha crashes into him, hugging him so tight he gasps for air. 

“Sash,” he wheezes into a mouthful of brown hair, embracing her back before she lets him go to hug Jean too. Eren scratches his arm, not caring about Mikasa’s gaze drilling into his back. He should be glad about this news, joining in everybody’s cheers and laughter. He frowns at that thought. 

He doesn’t know how he feels. 

“How’s the terrain?” Armin asks. 

“Just some hills like yesterday,” Nico says. “Then mounds of sand with more of that odd grass on it.”

“Dunes.” Armin nods. “Tell everyone to pack. We’ll wait for Jules and Ramon to return, and move camp there. No one goes ahead.” His eyes meet Eren’s, clear and bright. “We’ll see it all together.”

*

The sea is gargantuan. It roars and rages like a beast, noisy and greedy, crashing on the cliffs to the north and curling against a strip of sand to Eren’s bare feet. 

“Fuck, this is salty!” Sasha spits out a mouthful of water before shaking her head with a grimace. She sticks out her tongue, trying to wipe it with her hand.

Laughing, Connie holds his stomach. “Oh, Maria, you actually refuse to eat something! Hey!” He snorts when Sasha spatters him with water, grin spreading wide as he kicks off his boots. “Just you wait. Payback’s a bitch!”

Sasha giggles and runs, halting every now and then to splash more water into Connie’s face. 

Eren observes them, a long-forgotten part of him longing to join the carefree jesting, while the other part of him feels so bizarre, he doesn’t know what to make of it all. 

His senses overflow with impressions of azure salt and huge, so  _ huge. _ An entire scenery made of sand and water. Loud and just as unsettled as himself. 

“It truly stretches all the way to the horizon,” Armin says, pointing ahead where endless glistening blue spans as far as Eren can see. “Look at that. Just as in my parents’ book.” 

“It looked more colourful in there,” Eren mumbles, pulling a face at himself when Armin raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. Just saying.”

Mikasa frowns before she pushes her nose into her scarf. “I never thought it would smell like this,” she says after a while.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Armin beams.

Eren presses his lips together. 

His stomach hasn’t ceased churning with their arrival. If anything, the enhanced scent seems to worsen his nausea, but confessing to Armin and Mikasa each inhale sends sour-sweet bile up his oesophagus is not a good idea. They’ll ask him ceaseless questions, and Mikasa will fuss over him even worse than she already does. 

“What is it?” Armin asks.

Eren sighs. “It smells like a wet graveyard.”

Armin frowns yet doesn’t dig any further. 

“It’s impressive though, isn’t it?” Eren says, trying to make up for his edginess. 

A smile softens Armin’s face. His blue eyes glitter like the sunlight catching on the waves. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Come on, you guys!” Sasha shouts at them. Don’t just stand there. Come in!”

“It’s cold,” Mikasa says, though her eyes shine.

“I know. It’s perfect!” Sasha laughs and throws more water into the air. “Oh, look! A shell! I wonder if you can eat it.”

Scarf flapping in the wind, Mikasa looks over her shoulder. “Jean?”

“Not yet,” comes the engrossed reply, and Eren turns. 

Jean sits in the dunes, pant legs rolled up his hairy shins and sketch pad propped on his lap. It’s the big one this time. It peeks over his knees while his hands move across the paper. Pure absorption is written across his face, accompanied by that little smile that looks so loving and content it feels like a cold kick to Eren’s guts. 

This is how he should feel too. Happy and at ease. All he feels is overwhelmed. Exhausted and aching. He has to pull himself together. 

“I thought your hand was falling off,” he attempts a joke. 

Jean blinks, zoned-out expression replaced by lifting eyebrows before he smirks. “Will be worth it, I have a feeling.” 

Mikasa smiles as she joins him, tucking a windswept strand behind her ear. “What are you drawing?” 

“You okay?” Armin asks when she’s out of earshot. 

Eren sighs. “Yeah.” He grimaces as he feels his earlobes flush. “I don’t know,” he amends. “Have to be, right?” 

Armin scrunches his nose. “Shouldn’t we have gone this far?” 

“No,” Eren hastens to say. “No. I’m glad we did. I want to be here.” He holds Armin’s gaze, and though his smile feels weak to himself, it’s honest. “I’m glad we’re here together.” 

“Good,” Armin says, crossing his arms and nudging Eren with his shoulder. “I’m glad too.”

“Seriously, guys!” Sasha yells. She is in Connie’s grip and dripping wet. “Don’t stand there like statues, this is brilliant! Also, I need someone to help me dunk Connie.”

“Oi!” Connie laughs, splashing her with water. “That’s cheating.”

“I know.” Sasha shrieks with laughter and splashes back. “Please, pretty, please? You too, Jean. You can draw and play the ladies’ man later.” 

“One second!” he yells. He’s set aside the charcoal and rubs Mikasa’s back who sits next to him with a smile as she wipes her eyes. 

Unbuttoning his cuffs, Armin grins at Eren. “You coming too?” 

“Nah.” Eren smiles, digging his toes into the soft sand where cool water washes up. “Just like to stand here for a bit.”

“Okay.” Armin nods and rolls up his sleeves as he wades into the waves. “Come here, Connie. The more you help, the sooner it’s over.” 

“You are a traitor, my friend,” Connie says. “Not cool.” 

Armin splashes water into his face and laughs when Sasha splashes back. 

Eren swallows as he watches them. 

At his back, Jean helps Mikasa up her feet. The other way down the beach, a group of Underground Squads stand at the shore, a few carefully poking their toes into the shallow waves. Others are in all the way to their hips, and the rest stand some steps away, watching with wary glances. Further down, the younger recruits sit in the sand, one rolling around in it. 

Feeling like he belongs to none of the groups, Eren digs his toes deeper into the sand and looks at the glistening blue ahead. 

Levi wouldn’t dip a single toe into the sea, would scowl at it and say he doesn’t trust it. Observing the waves, Eren thinks Levi has a point. Who knows what’s in the water. It’s so salty even Sasha spits it out, so not good for eating. Maybe it’s even poisonous. Or maybe vicious creatures hide within the blue, hungry for dinner and starving after no prey for fuck knows how long. 

And yet it truly is beautiful. Beautiful and wide. It looks like the end of all things. 

Something in his periphery moves, and Eren turns his head. It’s an animal. A shelled, dark little thing of the size of his palm, crawling sideways as it rounds a small black rock. The two claws at its front click gently and a set of antennae stretch before it scurries off, scampering over the sand and towards the waterline. 

Lips tugging upwards in a smile, Eren looks after it.  _ Sorry for intruding into your home, little guy, _ he thinks as it disappears in a foamy wave.  _ We must look as strange to you as you do to us. Good thing we can’t shift these days, huh? That would be a sight for you.  _

The inward comment draws his attention back to Armin, and Eren gulps. 

He can’t believe they’re actually here. They’ve been looking forward to this moment for years. It was what pushed him forward all these past months since the war ended and there was nothing left to fight against but himself. It was his one goal. 

His sole purpose. 

Eren has no clue what to do from here on. 

_ I wish you were here to see this, _ he thinks, picturing Levi standing beside him.  _ Maybe it wouldn’t feel this odd without you. _

“Come on, mate,” Jean says, giving his back a push towards the water. “You can mope another day.” 

“I’m not moping.” Eren rolls his eyes yet follows. Seems like dunking Jean is the next thing on his list. Admittedly, it could be much worse. 


	4. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a terrible one to write. At first, all seemed okay. Eren was gloomy to the point of being unbearable but he was convinced everything was in its right place and happening correctly. Then he received a parcel, and the whole thing blew up into my face. Not only had I to find out Eren gave this entire chapter in the wrong order but he also gave me wrong details in an attempt to gloss over what really happens. I told him something couldn't be right, and then he had a meltdown in my head. That meltdown lasted for five weeks during which he basically switched between yelling and sitting in a corner, rocking, weeping, tugging at his hair and being more or less catatonic. Meanwhile, I tried to figure out what happens in here, crying all over the place myself—with him, for him, and for myself while I wondered why I'm even doing this story to myself, especially with a deadline attached. At my lowest point, I told IttyBittyTeapot, "I can't do this anymore. I'll break." She replied, "you can, and you won't." Since we are here now, apparently, I could and I am still here. 
> 
> I don't know how I pulled through, and can't even fully remember what finally made everything fall into place. All I know is writing this chapter alone gave me about 30 tossed pages, 2 chapters to write new and rearrange, enough heartache and tears for an entire year compressed into a month, and the biggest empathic challenge I've faced during writing so far. I want to thank everybody who had to endure my endless whinging as I worked on this, and everyone who supported me—emotionally and writing-wise—to get this bitch of a section done. 
> 
> Please proceed with tissues. And if you'd like to leave some feedback at the end, I'd be more than grateful. Up to this day, regardless of the time, tears, and care I put into this chapter, I still can't tell whether it's good and works for anyone but me.

Sasha isn’t dry before she declares she’s going hunting, dragging a dripping and grinning Connie with her. They return with game for the copper when the sunset paints the ocean into a clash of colours. 

Emerging from his tent, Eren gazes at the sunset, trying to etch the picture into his memory while the sounds of camp behind him fill the evening with laughter and music. 

Couples are standing in the dunes or walking across the shoreline, marvelling at the colourful sky and water brushing the horizon. Connie cracks jokes at the fire while Sasha stirs in the pot. Armin and Mikasa sit on crates nearby, gushing over Jean’s sketchbook. 

Eren caught sight of it earlier, biting his lip at three figures in charcoal eternalised on paper. One with black hair, one with blond, and a taller figure in their middle, pant legs rolled up and looking at the ocean. A tiny eight-legged creature scurrying by their feet. He hates to admit it, but Jean has a good eye. 

“I want to give it to Levi,” Jean said, looking at Eren as if it required his permission to give Levi anything. Eren shrugged and—biting back the comment he doubts Levi wants any picture of him—gave his okay. If Jean wants to gift Levi with something, so he should. And Levi should have something from the ocean after all. 

Wiggling his toes in the cooling sand, Eren scans the beach. He promised Levi he would bring him something too should they find the ocean. Maybe a drawing with him in it is enough. Levi doesn’t like presents anyway unless they come in a neat little tin. 

“Hey, Eren,” Sasha calls, grinning over the pot. “What do you say to this scenery?”

Giving himself a push, Eren approaches their group and smiles. “Like from a picture book,” he admits, settling on the empty crate to Jean’s side. He’s immersed in another sketchbook again, one of the smaller ones this time, and the half-finished drawing shows Armin, beaming and gesturing at someone who isn’t part of the picture. 

Eren scratches his brow and opens the caddie in his grip. 

He debated with himself whether it was a good idea to have the second Gunpowder within a fortnight. It’s nearing its end too, but it feels wrong to not have Levi present at all today. If rationed well, its three infusions will keep Eren motivated long enough to join today’s celebrations beyond the absolute necessary. The quietude of his tent calls him, and the surrounding exuberance grates on his arms, but he will smile tonight. For Armin. 

“You still have some of that?” Jean asks, jerking his chin at the caddie. 

“Not much left.” Eren frowns at the remaining little green tea balls almost at the bottom of the can. 

“We’ll get you new supplies in three months,” Sasha says with a sigh. 

Eren hums, filling his small kettle with water from a canteen. The expedition’s mission was to explore until autumn. Find the ocean, if it existed, build a fort and depository at the furthest point of their journey, and return before the year’s end. 

The war might be won, Hanji said, but it would be foolish to send one hundred men into unexplored land for too long. They’d have to check in everyone and debate whether further surveying makes sense. She also scrutinised Eren and Armin through her thick glasses with concern shadowing her brown eyes, and Eren knew she wanted them both back to ensure her serum was still working. It’s too new to rely on it blindly, and whereas Armin might still have eight years without it, Eren was down to three years before he injected the first dose last winter. He tries not to think about it. 

He also tries not to think about returning. Not a day ago, the prospect of ever seeing HQ again seemed endlessly far away. Today, their journey has reached its natural end, and Eren still tries to wrap his mind around the fact there is no further ahead. Just a going back. At least for now. 

“Yeah,” he says and sets his kettle onto the coals. “Three months.” Then he puts on a cheerful façade and tries to enjoy the evening. He can not spread his gloom for one night. 

*

The first constellations are twinkling down on them when Sasha declares supper is cooked, and Eren does her the favour of accepting an extra ladle of rabbit with old potatoes in broth. 

Sasha grins. “You’ll love it. I’m so proud today. Just smell this.”

“Mm,” Eren says, trying not to. His stomach still feels like worms are squirming inside. 

“She used extra salt,” Connie explains, somewhere between teasing and dread. “Maria tests us all.” 

Sasha waves a hand. “Supplies should be here any day. Besides. It’s a special occasion.”

Eren smiles, takes a piece of hard bread from the pile, and fills himself a rare jug of mead from the keg tapped for the celebrations. It makes him dizzy, despite the generous serving of stew, and he doesn’t want to risk losing his head, so he shoves the barely touched glass into Mikasa’s hands and brews himself the final infusion of Gunpowder before retreating to his half-empty tent. 

The bonfire lights up the canvas until late in the wee morning hours, painting the vacant spot beside Eren in golden-red light and shadows. He looks at it until the voices outside fade, silently talking with it about sand, salt, and azure blue as wide as one can see.

The following morning Eren wakes up to the roaring of waves, and after the first dazzlement of omnipresent noise, he stands at the sea with no sense of time, watching the starry horizon first grey, then blue before setting to work. 

“We’ll take things slow,” Armin says over his porridge. “I want us to be thorough. We need a supply depot here. A bigger one than those we built on the way, and high enough up the shore so the floods won’t tear it down. We need a docking station at one of the bigger river arms too.”

Eren shrugs. “I can take over construction work again.” He needs the physical outlet anyhow. The past month has been far too lacking of it.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Mikasa says. “You still look pale.”

“I have to do something, Mikasa,” he argues. They’ve been through this over and over again. “We’re soldiers. This is our job. I’ll go crazy if I sit still for another day, and the inclinometer is giving me headaches.”

“Your July readings were utter shit,” Kay contributes, and Eren scowls over the erupting laughter. 

He and Kay get along well, but July gave him horrible migraines, and the little device was too finicky to handle. 

“Wow, smartypants. As if I didn’t know that. The wheels are too fucking tiny when you can’t even see properly with nausea, you know?”

“Why don’t we focus on what you  _ can _ do?” Armin says, spoon swishing around in his bowl. He looks a bit too determinedly nonchalant, and Eren rolls his eyes. 

“I want to build,” he says. 

Armin nods. “Good. Mikasa, you can work with me on the maps, all right?” 

She doesn’t reply, but doesn’t argue either. 

“Eren,” Armin says. “Just take another day off the heavy work, okay?”

“But–”

“Just one.” His blue gaze fixes on him, and Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Fine.”

*

The tides are strange. They rise up the beach and retreat into the sea, leaving behind wavy wet ocean ground that looks like mud yet isn’t. Little creatures are hidden inside, curiously peeking at the sky before the water reclaims them. Armin gives the order not to walk too far from the dry sandline. Most Underground people never learnt to swim, and the flood rushes up fast. 

Pip and Oliver return from their patrol when the tides are low under a cotton-clouded sky, Hanji’s couriers in tow. 

As always, the supplying carts from HQ cause an emotional ripple throughout the camp, drawing in the patrols and everyone nearby to ask for messages from within Rose.

Seizing their distraction, Eren retreats to chopping wood, glad their rapt attention means he can have some peace for a while. 

It’s only when a massive frame towers at his side that he stops in his task, blinking as he wipes sweat off his brow. 

“Hey, great leader,” Daegel says. “Long time no see.”

Eren sighs and drives his axe into the thinning tree trunk. Why did they have to send Daegel of all people? “Hey,” he says. “Not brawling with Niv already?”

Daegel guffaws, chest heaving as he shakes his head. “He told me I can have you to myself for a moment. Thought you might be interested in what I brought you.” 

“A fist fight?” Eren lifts his eyebrows. “No thanks, I can do without that.” It might be a lie. He hasn’t had a fight in too long, and he feels antsy enough to give in. 

Daegel keeps a straight face. “You don’t look well, Eren.” 

“People keep saying that,” he mutters, tugging at the axe stuck in wood.

“Well, people are right. And no worries, I’m not here to grill your arse for it. Just saying. Thought seeing the ocean would make you happy, that’s all. Seems like I was wrong.” 

Taking a bracing breath, Eren looks over his shoulder and is once more reminded Daegel is one of the few people he has to look up to for eye contact. “What do you want, Daegel?” 

His bushy eyebrows shoot up to his stubbly black hairline. “Me? I want nothing.”

“Well, I want to work, so if you don’t mind.”

“Interesting,” Daegel says, not looking away, even when Eren makes his eyes flash blue. “Levi tends to say the same lately.” 

Eren’s heart stops. Speeds up. 

Three messengers. Three messengers have come and left. Three messengers—April, May, July—and he never asked. Never dared to ask aside from taking comfort in the vague assurances in Hanji’s letters. Now, the question is overpowering him. 

“He’s still at HQ?” 

His voice is weak, but going by Daegel’s shrug, he seems to have gotten the words. “No, got his own place in town. Better for him, I dare say. Citizens love him too.” 

Eren nods. Of course, they would. Levi is respectable and thoughtful, the best friend anyone could have. “How is he?” 

_ Please, let him be happy.  _

Daegel looks at him, earnest and sad. “Depends on who you ask. If you ask him, he’s fine. Doesn’t look like it. Looks a lot like you, actually.”

Eren doubts that, yet asks anyway. “And how would that be?”

“Like someone ripped his heart out. Though I must say, he at least eats.”

Pain flaring over his arms, Eren nods. Tears blur his vision. His face contorts.

He ruined Levi’s life. 

Daegel unfolds his massive arms, and he looks at Eren hard, expression lethal. “Did he do this to you?”

Eren’s head whips up. “What? No!”

“Are you sure?” Daegel’s mouth is a thin line. His nostrils flare. “Look, I know Niv talked to you about this before, and you told him to back off. But it’s been a while since then. So I ask you again: Did he do this to you? Did he hurt you in any way?”

Eren stares back. “Don’t you dare go there, Daegel,” he rasps. “He didn’t do anything to me. All right? If anyone screwed up, it’s me.” 

“Whatever you say, Sir.”

Eren glares. “I mean it, Daegel. He deserves better than getting shit from you two for something he hasn’t done. He’s the best person I know.”

Daegel holds his gaze for another two heavy heartbeats throbbing in Eren’s throat. Another heartbeat passes, and Daegel finally nods. “Never said he isn’t,” he says. “Just wanted to check.”

Eren stares back.

“Anyway,” Daegel breaks the silence, reaching into his burlap bundle. “I thought I might try cheering you up.” He places something on a nearby rock. “Maybe this helps. You must long be out of it anyhow.” His hand doesn’t relinquish the object right away, giving it a small pat that appears too gentle for his huge paw. 

Eren freezes, heart falling through the floor as the axe slips out of his hand. The object on the stone is paper-wrapped, but he knows exactly what it is. He feels it, sees it in its cuboid shape and heard it in the gentle knock it made when Daegel put it down. 

He stares up, meeting Daegel’s small crinkling eyes before Daegel nods and leaves Eren to himself. “Don’t let me leave without saying hello the proper way,” he says, hand waving as he goes. “It’s not how you treat an old friend.”

Eyes fixed on the paper-wrapped parcel, Eren barely hears him. His breath goes hard, and he gulps before he allows his aching fingers to lift the packet from where it stands. His heart kicks at the perfect weight and the touch of filled metal beneath the cover. The waxed paper is smooth, one flap holding the wrapping together with a neat, beautiful black seal showing an unadorned ‘S.’ 

Eren frowns. 

“‘Es?’” he asks. 

The reply fails to appear, and biting his lip, he peers around. He’s still alone. Everyone is at the campfire, reading their messages and talking, laughing, cracking jokes as far as he can hear. 

He breaks the seal open, startling when a tucked-in note loosens and lands on the ground. Scrawly letters catch his sight, and the moment he recognises the familiar writing, the tears spill over. 

Wrong. It’s the wrong hand. Of course, it is. 

Levi wouldn’t. 

A small sound escapes him, and he stifles it with a sniff, picking up the note and clenching his teeth together before focusing on it with determination to read whatever Hanji has to say. Her letters have been friendly so far, but maybe this is the one which will tell him he’d better go to hell and stay there.

‘Eren.’

He frowns. The last curve of the ‘n’ has a blotch. As though the pen lingered long enough on his name for the ink to seep through the vellum and leave a mark on her desk. 

‘Eren,’ he reads again.    
‘You must have run out by now and feel lonely without it. We have a new tea shop in town. You should come visit soon. I have a feeling you’d like it. It even has coffee!   
Missing your smile, always. Love, H.’

No accusations. No curses. No bad things at all. Only, ‘Love, H.’

Blinking against tears, Eren sniffs again, and after reading the note once more with a touch to the ‘H,’ he puts it aside and opens the caddie. The leaves are golden-tipped and smell like the sun shining on an autumn forest. It might not be from Levi. But right now it’s the best gift Eren can imagine receiving. 

“I miss you too, Hanji,” he says. 

Then he leaves the tree to itself, and goes to the water. With everyone fussing over the news from home, he might even have the beach to himself for a while. 

Right now he can’t imagine a better place than next to endless salt. He needs to walk off his tears. 

*

The tea, as it turns out, is from Levi after all. 

It’s Hanji who chose it, and Hanji who paid for it. She told Daegel to hand it over in private too, and something about her note gives Eren the feeling she didn’t tell Levi about it. Still, the tea itself is from Levi. 

Sparrow, they call it. A new café and tea shop in town. Levi’s place. 

Daegel tells Eren about it later that afternoon as he helps with the felled trees, ridding them of branches and digging holes where their trunks will serve as foundation for the new military buildings. 

The café wasn’t yet open when the supply crew left Hermina, but from the descriptions alone Eren can tell it must be beautiful. Full of wonderful tea, good honest food, and cleaner than anything Eren has seen for months. 

He wonders why Levi named his place after a bird, but it fits. Levi wouldn’t pick his own name, and it’s a good name for a place for everybody. A good name for someone who used to wear wings on his back and was born to fly. 

Daegel tells of big brass counters, red upholstery, and Hanji helping Levi with the renovations. He tells of a little timbered house with vine tendrils and always-swept cobblestone pavements. Of tea vendors and of citizens helping Levi to equip his new home.

Eren listens and asks little questions. He hopes, whoever all these people are, they’ll help Levi become content and are better friends to him than Eren ever was. 

The camp drinks Levi’s coffee that night, Eren abandoning the horrible brew in favour of the first cup of tea Levi must have sold. It tastes better than any Assam Eren ever had, of bursting autumn life and of lost friendship, warming Eren with a bittersweet ache deep in his chest. He nurses the infusion next to the sparking campfire, and as his comrades raise their cups of coffee in a toast to the Sparrow, Eren lifts his tea in silent concordance. 

Mikasa’s gaze is on him the entire evening. Eren pays it no attention as he mulls over his mistakes.

When he goes to bed that night, he reads all of Hanji’s letters. Unfolding them in the dim light of the icefire camper and tracing all her words, the new caddie nearby. The paper it was wrapped in, neatly folded and placed next to the ruined handkerchief hidden with the old caddie. 

“I miss you too, Hanji,” Eren says again when he reads her last lines. 

His eyes are drawn to the ink blotch, spreading from the end of his name like darkness taking over the day. He bites his lip.

Her words are a bit stiffer as usual, and as Eren rereads the blue scrawly letters, he once more wonders why she isn’t outright angry with him. He causes grief wherever he goes, turns on his friends, and leaves behind his messes for other people to clean up. 

He’s been like this for as long as he can think. It’s time for him to stop. 

Looking around in his too uninhabited double-tent, Eren spots the empty Assam can. 

“Don’t worry, Hanji,” he says. “I won’t hurt him any longer.” 

Then he puts the letters away, turns out the light, and goes to sleep. 

*

After the Assam, Eren throws himself into work. 

September rushes past in a haze of chopping wood, construction work, trailing the beach up and down with the waywiser, and the first autumn storm whipping against the shore. 

It wakes Eren from a fitful doze in the middle of a starless night, pushing up the waves and roaring in his ears when he steps out into the elements. Standing on the cold wet sand, Eren listens to the thunder from afar and watching the lightning’s fissure across the pitch-dark sky. The wind is violent enough for the ocean spit, and rain to form a single entity beating against anything it can find. Eren spreads his arms in it all, feeling more alive in the force of nature than he has for months. He inhales deeply, turns his back to the booming sea, and helps to secure the camp. 

Storms have always been his favourite weather. Here, they’re even better.

The beach is good for running too. Up and down the sandstrip, always in sight, yet alone enough to battle the whispers in his head that, as October approaches, grow louder with every day. 

Despite being out of the worst marshland, the mosquitoes remain everywhere. The sand fleas are a plague too, and the late summer sun is burning stronger than before. Armin says the ocean reflects the rays, and after having his face steam so hard it blurs his vision with fog one afternoon, Eren gives up and relents to the protective cloth Mikasa pushes into his arms. 

“Wear it,” she says. 

Eren sighs, yet obeys. 

With the healing bug bites and sunburn continuing to take a toll on him, the first memory flashes up in the middle of grooming Salka before the month turns.

Eren is that bespeckled bearded arsehole. He’s glaring at a man so drenched in blood, hatred, and fury, one can’t tell he’s usually black-haired, quiet, and kind. He wants to eat him, snuff him out like an insect, crush his bones, and not stop until nothing of him is left. 

Mouth filling with vomit, Eren reaches the next tree just in time. 

Palm pressing against rough resinous bark, he wipes his chin. “This joke’s on you, beardie,” he gasps with a snicker. “I got to you first.” He sneers, washes his mouth, and goes back to work. __

_ No one touches my friends. _

Eren’s dark humour persists when the same memory twists his stomach whilst framing the repository’s roof two days later. His taunting laughter makes the construction crew look at him as if he lost his mind, and ends in Mikasa dogging him for the rest of the evening. 

After that, the symptoms stay away.

The ocean changes constantly. One day grey and angry, the next glittering and blue. At night, it’s black and voracious. In the mornings, it’s as murky as dawn. In the afternoons it’s often as colourful as a rainbow. 

Some days it’s quiet enough to make Eren feel calm. A few hours later it’s so wild, Eren’s temper flares with it. 

Armin frowns a lot whenever he looks at him. Eren frowns back, and contributes as best as he can. Going by his work is all he has left.

The first Survey Corps beach repository is finished three weeks into their camp. A fortnight later, a docking station joins its side. Eren can’t help but think construction work would go so much faster if he could shift. Instead, he sighs and takes his October dose. It’s not like he has anywhere to go. He has all the time in the world. 

*

The days are getting colder. The wind meaner. 

Some mornings films shroud the ocean. Not close enough to chill Eren to the bones, yet ominous enough to make him run up and down the beachline a little faster than he already would.

Hanji’s letters are a reliable stream, and though Eren never writes back aside from the standard protocols, she doesn’t seem to mind the monologue. 

The October courier arrives when another storm rears up at the horizon. Hand holding on to his windswept hat, he drops a further message into Eren’s lap, and leaves soon to escape the chafing sand and angry saltwater flying from the sea. Not wanting the letter to get wet, Eren carefully puts it away to retrieve it later in the secluding shelter of his double tent. 

He reads Hanji’s latest scrawl two times that night, devouring every word from the only connection to Levi he has left. 

‘His phantom pain has gotten worse again. He doesn’t like to admit it, but the coffee he brews always tastes stronger then. The café is so beautiful. I’m certain you’ll like his cakes.’ 

That night, Eren falls asleep to the fantasy of simple pound cake with Gunpowder tea. 

The first Surveying teams conclude their measurements on a sunny afternoon. Another ten days of wrapping things up, Armin says, before the exploration team will start its procession back to HQ. Eren frowns and wonders why the news feels neither relieving, nor upsetting and yet, both.

*

The morning after, fog lies on the land. 

It’s odd, Eren thinks as he looks at the wafting fumes upon exiting his tent in the wee hours. He always feels the haze before he sees it. As though his senses know and recall he shouldn’t be alive anymore. As though they want to remind him he’s seen blackness blacker than black and was pulled back just to have another chance to ruin his life and succeed a few hours later. 

He felt the fogbank in his sleep, smelled it when he awoke, and now shudders as it manifests as a chill he won’t rid any time soon. 

Feeling the familiar pressure forming at the back of his throat and settling in his nape, Eren starts the morning fire. Its bright flames cast out some of the gloom but they look laggard too, and by the time Eren waits for the camp to fully awaken, his breath is laboured. 

The mist always comes with screams hiding in the obscuring haze. With clammy hands and feet which won’t warm all day. With a rush of images of what happened in that surprise attack and of what Eren did in Levi’s quarters afterwards. Even the gushing waves can’t cast it out. If Eren breathes in deep enough during foggy days, he tastes Levi’s kisses again and feels his hair tickling his chest and neck. And when the fog disappears, he’ll see the image of regretful grey eyes looking at him, blocking him out. 

Keeping his breath as even as he can, Eren sets out to fix a first infusion of Gunpowder. It would be time for more Assam, but that’s from Hanji, first and foremost, and though the Assam is from Levi’s café, the Gunpowder reminds Eren more of their friendship these days. The intense smoky scent will be a more effective stronghold against the chill in his bones anyhow. The extra infusions will help with the unfathomable cold too. 

The others feel it as well. 

They emerge from their tents with grim curses and worn faces, going by their morning routine quieter than usual as though the mist swallows every sound. When they gather around the morning campfire, the muteness seems to solidify until Eren is sure he could cut it with a blade if he only tried. Everyone sits closer together too; they all lost someone that day. 

The omnipresent hush lasts during breakfast, and as Mikasa settles to Eren’s left with a little sniff, he swallows the thick lump trying to choke him, and nudges his cup with Gunpowder against her elbow. 

Her grey eyes look at him, red-rimmed and a bit too glossy, and trying not to think that Levi nearly looked the same that afternoon, Eren manages a terse smile. “You’re cold like a ghost,” he mumbles. “Look like one too.”

She nods into her scarf and rests her shoulder against his arm before taking the cup with frosty fingers that don’t usually shake. “Thank you, Eren.” 

He shrugs. “It has three infusions anyway.”

“Mm.”

Mikasa has taken two careful sips that bring a tinge of hesitant colour back to her face when Sasha sits at Eren’s other side, resting her head on his shoulder as she squeezes his forearm.

Eren sighs. She’s always been a scrounger. “Yes, you can have tea too.”

Sasha smiles, shaking her head. “I’m not here for the tea,” she says, kisses his cheek with another squeeze of his arm before she stands. “Is breakfast ready? I’m starving.”

Feeling the touch of her lips stay on his cheek in a warm tingle, Eren looks after her. He doesn’t know what this was all about, but for some reason, it makes him want to hug her. 

*

The fog thickens with the aging morning until they can’t see far ahead. It slows them in their work, makes surveying impossible, and with every sudden sound a twitch ripples through the camp. 

Thatching the dock’s roof, Eren feels like floating within a time-distorting cloud. Everything around him is a white haze smelling of loss. It feels as though he has to take a single step into it, and the mist will suck him back to the evening Eren made the biggest mistake of his life. It doesn’t matter that by the time he kissed Levi, the fog was already long gone. 

The chill lingers on Eren’s neck until with noon the mist finally lifts to reveal a clear October sky, allowing the surveying teams to pick up their tools. By the time the sun sinks into the big wide blue, the final measurements are concluded, and Eren fixes the last wooden board on their building. 

Stepping back, he looks at it and frowns. 

They’re done. There’s nothing left to keep them here. 

In three weeks, they’ll be back at HQ. 

*

Finishing construction work leaves Eren with an unfulfilled weight on his chest that grows throughout the next day. 

The promise of an upcoming bonfire sizzles in the air from morning on, filled with accomplished cants and chummy shoulder-claps Eren takes with as much conviviality as he can muster. If anyone notices his smiles are stilted, they don’t mention it. 

The pre-festive mood reaches its peak when Sasha returns after midday, a deer carcass slung over Folly, and declares with an enraptured glow they’ll have a feast that night. 

Eren leaves her to the preparations, keeping himself busy with chopping firewood, sweeping his tent free from sand, grooming Salka, washing his clothes in a nearby river, cleaning his saddle, and gear maintenance until, by afternoon, he’s run out of tasks to do. 

Listening to the laughter outside, he looks around his tent, as tidy as it can be, and sighs. It doesn’t matter he could leave within ten minutes if he had to. He’s got another week to kill. Armin scheduled the additional days for map drawing and as an opportunity for the squads to get some rest before the arduous march back through the marshland. Eren frowns. Rest is overrated. It brings his headaches back. 

Deciding watching the sea beats going stir-crazy in his tent, he toes out of his boots and walks towards the shore. 

The sand is soft beneath his feet, makes each step a mild struggle with the ground. A conversation booms into life at his back, and though the shadow stayed away for weeks, now it’s returned.

It follows him down the waterline, blooming behind his eyes. 

_ Not today, _ Eren tells it.  _ Fuck off! _

It stays where it is.

Lowering himself into the sand, Eren clears his throat. Pushes his fringe from his eyes as it falls over his brow. It’s too long.

The shadow monster remains quiet. It’s taunting him.

Battling it, he erects his walls.

_ Breathe,  _ Levi’s voice says. 

Eren closes his eyes. 

_ Hey,  _ he replies.  _ I am breathing. I’m trying. _

_ You need a haircut. _

“Yeah, I know,” Eren mutters, opening his eyes to no one standing there. It stings less than it should. He frowns, brushing sand off his ankles. _Maybe I’ll let it grow like Armin._ _Not that it matters much out here either way. Nothing matters much anymore._

The ocean whooshes before him. Above his head a seagull shrieks. 

Eren shivers. 

_ You’ll return soon,  _ Levi says.

_ We will. _

_ How do you feel about that? _

Eren huffs a hysteric snicker.  _ Like shit. _ His fingers clasp around his knees, eyes fixed on the waves yet seeing nothing as he fastens his grip on what he thinks is the connection to his inner self.  _ I thought I could leave you alone, but I can’t.  _

Levi doesn’t reply. 

_ I’m scared,  _ Eren admits. 

_ I’m here.  _

_ I know… You’re also not, though. And I don’t know…I don’t know whether you’ll even want to see me when I return.  _

An unruly tear rolls down his cheek. Eren wipes it away.  _ I don’t know why I always feel better when you’re around.  _

Swallowing, Eren cuts that last thought off. He needs to stop crying. It’s stupid anyhow. 

Surrounded by sand, water, and bleeding sky, he forces his lungs to obey. Long, calm breaths through his nose. One after the other. No blinking to keep the tears from spilling down his face. Best to look up at the sky, and find something mundane to talk about. 

_ So how was your day?  _

No answer comes, as expected. Eren has no clue what Levi’s life is like these days. Filled with routine, most likely. Lots of rituals and little sleep. 

He clears his aching throat. 

_ My day was fucking dull. At least Salka is here. She misses you and Meraki, I think. Definitely looks sad lately. She sniffed at me again today… I don’t know whether she senses the memories too or whether she just smelled the ocean on me.  _

Eren frowns. Lets his eyes roam over the colourful sea, trying to find the right words to describe what he sees. 

_ You’d find it so odd here. Remember that winter day two years ago? When I built that cave? The next morning, we had some warming black market Lapsang, and the sun rose over the snowy plain. It looked better there than this. Like the whole world lightened up. This is beautiful too but so… _

He scowls at the vibrant waves crashing in sunset-crimson and dark against the land. His comrades laugh somewhere behind him.

_ …pointless, _ he finishes the thought. _ Everything is pointless these days.  _

_ Even the ocean.  _

Another wave crashes before him, taking more sand with it as it retreats, slinking back into the vast water. 

_ Fuck, I miss you.  _

As always, Levi doesn’t say it back.

Burning eyes search for a new thought, and Eren scans the beach, brow crumpling when he sees two familiar shapes walking up the shoreline. Mikasa’s shawl flutters behind her as Jean moves his hands as though talking, halting in his steps before bending down to pick something up. He holds the item aloft before placing it in her hand and though they are too far away to make out their expressions, something about Mikasa’s demeanour tells Eren she’s smiling. 

Eren bites his lip, looking at the sand around him. His promise to Levi comes back to his mind, to bring him something from the sea. In all the weeks he’s been here, he hasn’t looked for anything. What would Levi like anyhow? That aside, it probably won’t make him smile like Mikasa. Maybe he’d even think Eren wants to woo him like Jean. Bleugh. 

Mikasa tucks a black strand behind her ear, and closes her hand around the little trinket. Jean rubs his nape, and Eren knows he’s blushing. 

Averting his gaze, Eren blinks at his fingers, only now realising he’s picking at his nails, and one digit bleeds. 

_ That doesn’t hurt? _ Levi asks, and Eren frowns.

_ No. It doesn’t.  _ He watches the quicks heal with numb interest, counting down the seconds in his head until they’ll look like nothing happened—two cups-of-tea, one cup-of-tea…

Eren gazes at his blemish-free hand, curling the fingers in a loose fist.  _ Lots of things stopped hurting a while ago. Food tastes stale too. It’s like eating dust. Other things hurt more in exchange. _

Levi frowns.  _ Like what? _

_ Breathing, _ Eren thinks. _ It hurts all the time. Like I’m back in Stohess with that beam spiking my lungs and half the pavement weighing me down. Sometimes I imagine I’m back at HQ, and the pressure is better for a bit. _

Levi is about to say something when footsteps approach, and Eren closes his eyes.  _ Please, don’t come to me. Don’t make him vanish, please– _

“Hello, great leader,” Niv says.

Eren sighs. Opens his eyes. Levi is gone. 

Pain rakes down his arms, and he scowls at the intruder. “Stop calling me that.” 

Niv grins. “You know I won’t.” His bare feet kick up sand as he comes to a halt by Eren’s side. “Why so alone on this beautiful evening? Everyone’s celebrating we’re finished. Come on.” He slaps Eren’s shoulder. 

“I’m not in the mood, Niv,” Eren replies. 

“Hm. That I can see.” Despite Niv’s words, he shows no intention of leaving. Instead, he shrugs, plops down beside Eren, and squishes the shadow into an aching slither. 

Anger coils in Eren’s stomach. “Done with collecting shit too then?”

Niv chuckles, planting one elbow on his knee and balancing his chin on his palm. “No shit in six weeks. At least I didn’t have the pleasure.”

“Tough luck.”

“I know, right?”

Silence falls. 

Eren picks at his nails again. Pulls at a bit of skin. His thumb starts bleeding. 

Steam curls into the crimson-coloured evening. 

He wishes Niv would leave, but then again, it probably beats brooding, and talking to a phantom of a friend who is only from the past. 

Whoosh, goes the ocean. It looks like a sea of blood. 

Maybe the entire world is Ymir’s stomach. The original Ymir’s. Not the one that shows him memories from time to time. It would explain why Eren still feels trapped. 

It would explain why the air is so foul too. And why the water is so salty. The entirety of humanity losing its essence collected in the sea. Hundreds and thousands of years of people being killed and murdering each other. 

The sun dips deeper, and the illusion fades as the sand turns grey. The colours dying out. 

The ocean is just an ocean again. Restless and loud. Longing for the land it will never be.

“Looks freaking weird, doesn’t it?” Niv asks, turning his gaze ahead. “I wonder if back home anyone will believe us when we tell what we saw.”

“Mm,” Eren says. Levi would. Levi would believe them. 

Something cold twists in his gut, and Eren snatches a twig of marram grass to twiddle with.

When they return to HQ, someone will tell Levi of the ocean, and he will nod as he always does when he listens, and ask questions Eren will never hear. His eyes will be clear and calm, and he’ll soak up every word as he pours them tea. 

The thought alone makes Eren want to cry. Telling Levi of the upside world was always his privilege. His honour. Levi didn’t ask anyone else about such things, only Eren. With what Eren did to Levi, he took that away too. 

Wrapping the marram grass around his index finger tight enough it makes his phalanx throb, Eren wonders who will tell him about it. Some of the Underground men or Armin perhaps, though they’ll explain it the wrong way. The Underground men will mix up the details and tell Levi the wrong things. Armin, on the other hand, will use so many big words, and though Levi will understand them all, he won’t be able to know how it  _ felt _ to be here. 

How soft the sand is, and how warm after the sun shone on it for a day. How harsh the wind and how gentle and cooling in the late summer. How angry, greedy, loud the sea. How changeful, blue and wide. How far and still the horizon. How big the sun seems and how lonely the stars.

How razor-sharp the marram grass is and how cattail-fluffy its blossoms. 

Beside him, Niv huffs a snort into his hand. “These weird jelly things for example we found the other day. Or the crabs. Imagine walking sideways all day long. Gives you a nice head-spin, I’d say.”

Releasing the tight noose around his index finger, Eren hums. “Jellyfish,” he corrects.

Niv chuckles. “Whatever.”

More silence. 

“Hey, would you like some tea?” Niv asks. “Still have some last reserves.”

Despite the candid offering in Niv’s honest eyes ensures this isn’t meant as a pity-drink, Eren shakes his head. “No, Niv. It’s yours.” 

Niv has decent tea; it’s even acceptable, yet it doesn’t match Levi's standards. That aside, the plan was to sit at the beach for the rest of the evening, then have some food and try to not lose his nerve about going back.

“Ah, come on, man,” Niv says. “I swear it doesn’t taste right alone, and it feels like an evening for it, hm? Don’t make me beg or share with Jean.”

Niv’s brown eyebrows lift with a single mirthful waggle, and Eren rolls his eyes with a sigh, throwing away the grass blade. “Okay.”

“Excellent!” Stretching, Niv stands and tugs at Eren’s hand, helping him up to his feet. “I knew you’d like the idea. You find a spot by the fire, I’ll fetch the things.” 

*

Niv’s Afternoon Blend has surpassed its shelf life and is slightly bitter, yet uplifting. Its taste is also far enough from Levi’s tea it doesn’t feel wrong to drink it in company, surrounded by people. 

Their noises violate Eren’s senses, making his arms itch, his ears ring. He blends them out, focussing on Niv’s lilt carrying over the campsite bustle. 

“A real bed, Eren,” he says with a wide grin. “Just imagine. We’ll have mattresses again soon. And downs…I’d even take a frowsty hay cod at this point.” 

Eren’s lips twitch. “No wet floor sounds nice.” 

“Some shelter from this sun.”

“Yes,” Eren says, eyeing Niv’s sun-burnt skin illuminated by nothing but the fire, and wondering whether Levi would peel similarly if he were here. 

Before he can dwell on the thought too long, Niv’s elbow pokes his arm. “Can’t give me some of that healing, can you?” His eyes gleam with mirth, and he looks so carefree, Eren grins.

“Not unless you eat me, no.”

“Eh. Nah.” Niv shrugs with a wink. “I step back from that voluntarily. Bet you taste like sand these days anyway and grit like it too. I swear, this shit is fucking everywhere. I found some grains in my belly button this morning. How does it even get there?”

Eren snorts. “At least pissing doesn’t hurt yet.”

Niv laughs. 

A familiar prickle in his neck tells Eren Mikasa is watching him. After returning from her walk with Jean, they sit nearby, and though she hasn’t intruded so far, Eren muses it’s only a matter of time. He sighs and takes a sip of lukewarm tea. 

“So what do you miss most?” Niv asks. 

Eren sighs.  _ My best friend. _ “A clean room,” he says.

“Yeah, this muck is shite, isn’t it?”

Smiling, Eren huffs. “It is.” 

Niv drowns his snicker in his cup. “What will you miss most from here?” 

“The storms,” Eren says. “I’ll miss the storms. And running up and down the beach.”

“Looking at how often you’ve done that I thought you’d might be glad to run away from here.”

“No.” Eren smiles, swishing the tea in his cup. “Maybe,” he admits. “I still like it.”

Nodding, Niv looks at the sea. “I’ll miss stuffing jellyfish into Sovanna’s collar. She shrieks ever so lovely.”

Mirth gleams in his eyes, and Eren snorts. “Don’t let her hear that.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” Niv chuckles. “A little tip. Don’t tease your partner too much. Then again…maybe do. Some people need it.”

Eren frowns. 

“Okay, folks!” Sasha shouts while Connie bangs a wooden spoon against a tin plate to draw everyone’s attention. 

Eren winces at the noise. 

“Food’s ready,” Sasha announces. Approving yells sound before she speaks on. “The head’s mine, and Armin picks first for bringing this expedition to a successful end. The rest of you can queue up.”

Concordant laughter and shouts invade Eren’s ears, and he bites his lip. 

“You can’t do that,” someone yells. The voice oddly stands out and sends a shiver down Eren’s spine. “Don’t–”

Someone slaps his shoulder. 

Facing evening darkness and crackling fire atmosphere surrounding him, Eren blinks up. 

Niv stands before him, eyebrows knitted. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” Suppressing another shudder, Eren clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…had a moment,” he says and scratches his brow as he reorientates himself. 

People laugh, bustling around Sasha and Connie handing out plates of food. The scent of roasted meat and wild herbs hangs in the air, and Eren realises he’s hungry.

“Yeah, I see that,” Niv says. “I’ll fetch you something. Maybe some venison will help, huh? Smells delicious today.”

_ Assimilate, _ Eren tells himself.  _ Focus. Don’t ruin anyone’s night.  _ “No,” he says, rising to his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

*

Sasha takes one look at Eren when he’s standing before her, purses her mouth, and adds something to his plate. 

“Have some brains too. They’re good for you.” She smiles, eyes soft, and Eren sighs.

“Thank you,” he says in lack of anything else to contribute, takes his far too generous portion without protest, and reclaims his prior seat beside Niv. 

Initial hunger aside, the food looks disappetising on his plate, and picking at the hot and juicy bits of dead meat, Eren wonders when exactly food started to lose its appeal. He pushes himself to have a bite and washes the bits down with some tea. It helps, and when Niv grins and offers to “run riot with a second batch,” Eren accepts the special treatment with a grateful nod. 

Niv beams and hastens to prepare another pot.

At least the food muffles the general volume around the campfire. People are busy digging into their meals, and the conversations have softened to an acceptable buzz. 

Those already finished eating are partly lining up for a refill whilst others enjoy the evening with content smiles. Armin laughs at something Una says, and Jean has retreated to drawing again, gaze roaming around the group over his sketchbook with a concentrated frown while Mikasa sits at his side. Her gaze meets Eren’s, and he scowls, trying to not let her scrutiny near and proving he’s fine by forcing down more food. She frowns yet turns to Jean again, nuzzling her nose in her scarf as he adds more coal lines to his book. 

To the other side, a small group sits in the sand, passing around treasures the last storm washed onto the shore. A shell. A piece of driftwood. Something small Eren can’t recognise. 

“Here you go,” Niv steps into his vision, setting a refilled, steaming cup on Eren’s crate.

“Thank you.”

Niv grins, retaking his seat. “Always, great leader.”

Eren sighs, yet for once doesn’t scowl at the nickname. Niv brewed him tea in the middle of nowhere. He can call him whatever he likes. 

Eren has battled his way through most of his dinner when Sovanna joins them, sliding her arms around Niv from behind and pressing an audible smack into his neck. Her golden hair cascades over her shoulder. “Hey, you two.”

Eren nods. “Hi.”

“Hey, babe,” Niv says, smiling up at her. “Having a lovely night?”

“Mm. I have now.” Her eyes shine as she steals a real kiss, and Eren averts his gaze as the meagre remains of his previous lightness trickles away. 

He never much liked being near kissing people. It’s always looked gross and repugnant to him, yet with the food losing its taste, any witnessed physical contact reminds him he’s alone amongst friends on top of everything. It shouldn’t affect him as it does. Not with people who he’s witnessed loving each other for years, yet it’s like a cold spear to his gut, and he already knows by the increasing sighs to his right, Niv will retreat any second now. Setting aside the food, Eren empties his cup not too fast, and is almost relieved when Sovanna tries to pull Niv away with a grin. 

“I’m talking with Eren, babe,” Niv says with a chuckle. “I’ll join you in a bit, okay?”

Eren clears his throat and puts on a smile. “No, go. It’s all right.” 

“You sure?” Niv asks, frown creasing his brow. 

“Yeah, have some fun,” he presses out. Maybe he can retreat soon too. He’s already shown presence and ate a good part of his food. He even smiled. He’ll sit for another few minutes and then excuse himself as well. “I’m tired anyway.” 

Niv nods. “Okay. Feel free to have my tea, yes?”

“Thanks.”

Watching after them with his stomach hardening, Eren sighs. 

With Niv gone, the space by his side is vacant again, and it’s too loud around him to conjure Levi back. Levi doesn’t like crowds anyhow. Not even the phantom version of him. 

Eren shudders and scratches his arm. He takes Niv’s tea cup, wrapping his fingers around the heated aluminium. The material feels strange against his lips, and he pours the liquid into his own cup. He takes another sip. 

Yes. Better. 

“You think it crawled in there?” Tolbert asks. 

“How?” Jules asks, lifting something to look at it in the firelight. “It’s solid.”

“What do I know?” Tolbert replies. “It had to get in there somehow.”

They sit to Eren’s left, three steps away, handing an object back and forth. 

Jules grins. “You think it’s still alive? You think you can ask it?”

“It’s an ant, Jay. I’m not stupid,” Tolbert says with a chuckle. “Even if I could break it open, I wouldn’t want to. It’s pretty.”

“Well, we could always ask. Hey, Armin!” Jules calls. “Come and explain this to us, please?”

“What is it?” 

“Some sort of gem. I think? There’s an ant in there. How does that happen?” 

Muscles tensing, Eren looks at her hand holding a small oval gem glinting in the firelight. It’s small and beautiful and inside…

Eren blinks. He stands in a torch-lit tunnel, staring at a trapped friend. 

“Are you sure?” Armin asks beside him. 

Hanji looks at them both with reflecting glasses. 

“Someone has to do it,” Eren insists, fists balled at his side. 

Armin scrunches his nose. “Eren…I should–” 

“No.”

A moment later, he stands in his temporary quarters in Sina. The door bangs open without a knock and slams shut. Eren turns and stares at Levi stomping forward. Heat lashes around him, pushing the January cold out of the room. 

Shit, Eren thinks. Hanji told him. 

“Don’t do it,” Levi seethes. “Don’t.”

“I have to,” Eren says, looking back. 

Levi is closer than he’s been in weeks, looking angrier than Eren has ever seen him. His nostrils flare, the white around his dagger-sharp irises shows. “You don’t have to do anything,” Levi snarls. “Let Armin do it.”

“I can’t let Armin do anything,” Eren argues. “I have to do it. I talked to Hanji already.”

“And that’s for you to decide?” 

“Yes,” Eren shouts back. “I made him into what he is. He shouldn’t have to do this too.”

“I fucking made him into what he is. You were not part of that decision. You are not responsible for that.” 

“Oh, such bullshit!” Eren’s arms fly in the air and he takes a step forward. “I was there too, you know!” It hurts to look into Levi’s eyes, hurts even more to argue, and yet it’s so good to just talk to him at all again after weeks of avoidance, Eren almost enjoys this. Something must be wrong with him. 

“Don’t do this,” Levi says again, command in his voice. “It’s not worth it.”

“You’re not my superior anymore.” The words are out before Eren can think, and it’s too late to take them back. They’re the truth too, and no matter how livid Levi looks, it won’t stop Eren from doing what he’s about to do. He wouldn’t obey an order in this case anyhow. 

“This has nothing to do with you,” Eren adds. “I have no other choice.”

“Oh, yes you fucking do. You can choose to take your serum as you should. Right now. You carry seven already.” 

“I can take one more. I have to.”

“Why?” Levi asks. “Fucking why?”

“Because he loves her,” Eren says and when Levi doesn’t reply, he leaves the room. Within an hour, Annie will be dead. At least her body will be.

“You’re killing yourself,” Levi calls after him. 

Eren walks on. He walks through Sina in a haze, towards the ground Hanji prepared. 

He blinks again and looks at his hand as it lifts to his mouth. 

Pain explodes on his wrist. _ Protect Armin, _ he thinks, and the world shrinks, shrinks, shrinks. 

Annie looks small. So vulnerable and innocent. A teenager. An enemy. A comrade. A liar. A friend. 

She weighs nothing in his hand, and before he can think about it, he hardens his teeth, and roars at her to obey. A heartbeat later, shards like glass break between his jaws with a horrible sound, and power ignites in his chest. Blood floods over his tongue. Her skull cracks in his mouth like egg shells. Hot brains and spinal fluid run down his throat. He can  _ taste _ it. 

Eren swallows and swallows, making sure she’s gone before he emerges from his Titan. Vomits before he’s even out. 

The vomiting won’t stop. It goes on and on. 

He retches and gasps and vomits some more. He tastes blood and flesh, meat and tea, and then nothing than bile and tears. 

“Shit,” someone says. “We need that blanket!” 

“Here,” someone else says. “Take this for now.”

“Eren,” the first voice says as something heavy is being draped around his shoulders. It’s warm and smells like leather. “Eren, can you see me? Come on, I know you can. Look at me.” 

Armin. 

He crouches next to Eren. His eyes are wide, his hands self-assured as the tucks the cloth tight around Eren’s arms. 

“You loved her,” Eren says, seeing nothing but blue eyes and blond hair. The ground feels odd beneath his knees and palms. “I couldn’t let you do it. I couldn’t…please don’t be mad. Levi is so mad…” Tears spill over. He tastes more blood, brain and splintering bones, and his stomach retches once more. Nothing comes out this time. 

“He was all right all day though, wasn’t he?” someone says.

“Give us some fucking room, guys,” the second voice from before barks. Jean. 

“Was it my meat?” Sasha’s voice asks from far away. “It’s too early for symptoms. Did I do this to him?”

“I doubt it, Sash,” Connie replies. 

“I’m sorry…” Eren splutters. “I’m so sorry. Please, don’t be mad anymore.”

“I’m not mad,” Armin says. 

“No…” Eren sniffs against snot and tears. “Levi…I miss you…” 

“Levi isn’t here, mate,” Jean says. “He’s far away. We’re all you have for now. Sorry.”

Eren shudders, pulling at his hair. “No…” he whimpers, fighting against another retching attack. 

Levi isn’t here. He still hates him. 

“We need to go back as soon as possible,” Mikasa says. “This can’t go on.”

“No!” Eren shakes his head. “No, no, no…”

“Not now, Mikasa,” Armin says. “Today, it’s too late for anything anyhow.”

“She’s right though,” Jean says. “It’s getting worse. We stayed too long already.”

“I see that. But we’re here now, and leaving like headless chicken won’t get us anywhere.” Armin’s voice sounds grim. “I just wish I knew how he always calms him down.” 

Jean huffs. “Seriously? You still don’t know?”

Footsteps approach in a haste. “Blanket,” Jules calls. 

“Thanks,” Armin says. “We need some water too.”

More cloth is being draped around Eren’s shoulders, and it is so soft, warm, and heavy it makes him shudder with relief. 

“Eren,” Armin says again. “Do you know where you are?”

He blinks around, and only now sees the multiple faces looking at him with worry. It’s evening. A campfire glows and crackles not far away. He’s on all fours in the sand. The ocean whooshes nearby, and Eren sniffs. 

He’s at the sea. They all are. 

“Ocean,” he splutters. Sniffs again. 

Armin sighs. “That’s right. Do you remember what day it is too?”

Eren blinks at him, giving his best to focus on his eyes. “Eight fifty-five. October…mission.”

“Good.” Armin nods and squeezes his shoulder. “That’s good.” 

Gulping, Eren notices the taste in his mouth, and the mess of deer brains and shoulder before him. Shit.

He ruined the evening. And he was so determined to pull himself together. To not trouble anybody. 

“I’m sorry,” Eren says with another shudder, trying to stand, though Jean pushes him right back down, so Eren lands on his arse. 

“Nothing new, mate. Stay put and breathe for a minute.” He pushes a canteen into Eren’s hands. “Get some water back into your system. We’ll clean up for you. It’s just puke. The sand makes it easy anyhow.” 

“I’ll fetch a shovel,” Connie says over the murmur of hushed voices. 

Eren sniffs and drinks. “I want to sleep,” he manages after a bit. 

“I’ll help you to your tent once you stopped shaking and we know you’re better,” Jean replies, taking something from Mikasa’s hand. 

“It’s cold,” Eren protests. 

“It’s a hot night, and you’re wrapped up like a caterpillar, mate. Drink. Have this too. I know it tastes bloody awful, but you need it.” 

A protein bar lands in his lap. 

Too tired to argue, Eren obeys. 

He’s taken two bites when Jean lowers himself before him, the set of his jaw grim, his scowl earnest. “Feeling better, mate?”

Eren sniffs. People are talking around him, but he can’t hear what they’re saying, their mumbling drifting in and out like the tides. 

He wipes his face. Attempts a nod.

Jean hums. “Want to go home?” he asks, gaze searching Eren’s. “We can leave tomorrow if you can. We’ll prepare right now, but you need to tell me whether you’re fit enough.”

Home. 

Holding tawny eyes shining in the firelight, Eren swallows as the answer to his questions finally clicks into place. He doesn’t care right now he’s causing everyone inconvenience. All he cares about is Jean’s determined scowl and the one word refusing to leave his head. Home. Home. Home. 

HQ. Hanji. A clean room. Levi. 

He sniffs once more. Nods. “Yes.” 

Jean smiles firmly, squeezes Eren’s shoulder, and stands. “Good. Eat up, mate. We’ll pack.”


	5. Northwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::comes out of her hiding place after dropping yesterday's bomb on you guys:: 
> 
> Have a great start into the weekend, everyone! I hope today's chapter makes up a bit for all the sad tears.  
> ::nudges the tissue box into the middle of the table nonetheless::
> 
> This chapter has more [gorgeous accompanying fanart](https://l-leonhardt.tumblr.com/post/185980806655/erens-heart-stops-his-breath-does-too-as-his). Thank you so much again, L-leonhardt. It's been such a pleasure working with you. <3

The sky blushes in a pale dove grey when Eren stands at the waterline, frowning at his wave-wettened ankles. He stripped off his boots, wanting to feel the sand and water on his feet for the last time. 

His tent is rolled up and stowed away. His bundle is packed. His tea cup cushioned carefully so it won’t break. Salka stands at his side. His comrades are scattered around. Eren’s spirit is already on its way. 

It feels odd to say goodbye. To look at the big wide greyish murky blue of dawn and know he’ll never see it again. 

The ocean swooshes with a bird crying over his head. The waves are high today. The tides are lowering. The sand is grey this morning too. Grey and cold from the night. Beautiful yet already so far away. 

_ This is it,  _ Eren thinks, holding on to Salka’s reins. _ I’m going home. Back to where I belong. _

The realisation is still new, yet feels so essentially true, he wonders if he’s known it all along. His place never was here. Here, at this expedition, no one needs him anyhow. 

Mikasa has Jean to keep an eye on her. He’s doing a far better job than Eren, no matter his motives. Jean has his sketching. Armin has exploring. Sasha has nature, Jean, and Connie. Connie has Sasha and enough people to laugh at his jokes. They all have each other and the adventure itself. They don’t need Eren for that. If anything, Eren only ruins their moods. Has been ruining them for months. They might be his friends too, but he doesn’t know how to talk to them anymore.

Something must be wrong with him for needing this long to figure it out. 

What will await him when he returns? Will Hanji be happy to see him? Will he be able to visit Levi? Just once so he can at least say his “thank you” for the first Assam? Will Levi kick him out? Will he yell at him? Will he still look like Daegel described him? 

The thought won’t let Eren go. Levi is the last person on earth who should be miserable in any way, let alone look like someone ripped his heart out. Not just someone. A friend. 

Despite the knowledge he’d miss Levi more than he already did once he’d be on the road, Eren never actually thought of Levi maybe feeling the same. The mere possibility that Levi might miss him…it hurts. 

It hurts so much, Eren wishes he could rise in the air and fly to him right now. He wants to jump into the wind and let himself be carried to where he’s needed. No hesitating. No doubt. 

What’s even worse, Eren should have known better. He should have known best. He should have remembered that before he came along, Levi was lonely. 

Levi had Hanji; he still has Hanji, and she is the best person anyone could have on their side. Yet Hanji or not, Levi felt lonesome beyond any tolerable amount of normal reclusion from the moment Eren first met him, talked to him, saw him with nobody else around. Everyone else seemed to have someone to talk to. Someone they found important and someone they turned to after a battle or in their grief or simply to seize the little moments of plain goodness life granted them. Someone to share their dreams with, their secrets, and their sorrow. Levi had no one. 

It wasn’t pity that made Eren want to change that. It wasn’t blind hero-worship either, no matter what Armin and Mikasa insisted on during their first days under Levi’s command. If Eren had to pin down what drove him to reach out, it was Levi’s heart. Levi was caring and good. He made Eren feel safe, and something about his tired grey eyes made Eren want to give that feeling back. 

A wave crashes before Eren, foaming and spitting cold wet salt against his shins and Salka’s hooves. She snuffles, and patting her neck, he frowns at the white froth quivering on the glistening wet sand. No matter what he destroyed last autumn, he was special to Levi. Eren knows it.

Levi doesn’t trust easily. He is careful and reserved, and yet he trusted Eren enough to let him see things no one else did. 

No one could make Levi laugh as Eren could. Out loud and with tears catching on his eyelashes as he wheezed. No one else Eren knows ever could bring out that mild smile either—the unguarded one that lifts the shields in Levi’s expression and makes his face look funny. No one else was ever allowed to see Levi’s pain when a mission went awry or when his foot hurt too much. With Eren gone, who would make sure he was all right? Who would make him smile? 

Levi sometimes takes himself too seriously too. Who would be there to tell him so when he worries too much or to keep him company when he can’t sleep again? Or simply to help him reach the high ceiling during cleaning? 

Eren never wanted to hurt Levi. All he ever wanted to do was to shield Levi from being hurt further than he already was and give him the space to do with his life whatever he wanted; free of Eren and free of regret. Maybe, though…maybe Eren took away too much. 

Maybe, instead of having Eren removed from his life, all Levi needed was for Eren to let the past be past and see him as a friend again. Instead, Eren went exploring. No apology. No explanation. Not one attempt to go back to where they were. It must have looked as if he didn’t care. It must have felt like Eren couldn’t get away quickly enough. Like he hated Levi. Like Eren blamed him. 

Eren didn’t even care to keep his one promise. The last vow he gave before he left. 

_ I’ll bring you something from the ocean when we find it. _

Levi looked to lonely back then, pale and wounded. Arms crossed, eyes clear and tired, frown saying so many unspoken things. He doesn’t like presents, never liked them as long as Eren remembers. He nodded anyhow and said,  _ good. _

And now Eren is about to leave without a single thing to bring back. Simply because he’s been too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“I’m such a fucking arsehole,” he says, looking at the waves. 

Little shells and pebbles are scattered all across the sand, accompanied by algae in different shapes and sizes, an occasional log of bleached wood, and feathers from these shrill birds. 

And there, hidden beneath a flapping autumn leaf, is a flash of grey. 

Eren’s heart stops. His breath does too as his eyes stare the pebble peeking out of the sand. 

Levi. 

Levi has eyes that colour. 

Reins slipping out of his grip, Eren approaches the little rock, hand stretching out for it. Despite its rough-looking surface and the chilly morning, the stone is smooth to the touch and surprisingly warm in his hand. It’s oval shaped, and as he turns it in his fingers, he sees a perfectly round hole runs through its middle, slightly off-centre. 

His fingers close around the stone. His heart thumps with new-found affirmation. 

This is what he’ll give Levi. Nothing big. Nothing marvellous. Nothing filigree, nor a rotting piece of driftwood. No trapped beauty in a shiny gem. This. 

Levi has always been a rock. Eren’s rock. Levi should have one in return. Even if Eren has to search for him. Even if Levi sends Eren away afterwards to leave him alone. 

Chest swelling with something light and tingling, Eren scrutinises the stone in the brightening dawn. The sea made it dirty, probably, a thin salt crust marks its surface in a neat white circle, and small grains of sand and tiny shell fragments stick in the porous surface. 

Worrying his lip, he glances at the ocean. Should he wash it? It might be perfect like this. Eren lifts it to his nose and detects a distinct whiff of salt. Not gut-wrenching this time. Just plain salt. Fresh and clear. Like a promise. 

Eren’s lips twitch. His face hurts, and it takes him a moment to realise he’s smiling. Chest expanding and finally giving him space to breathe without ache. 

How long has it been? 

Salka’s nose nibbles on his neck, and Eren laughs with relief, wiping his eyes. 

Yes. It’s perfect. 

“Seems like I found your gift,” he mumbles, holding on tight to the stone. “Levi,” he adds, and after not deliberately saying the name for months, it hurts less than expected. 

Inspecting the stone, he brushes away all superficial sand, dust, and dirt while footsteps approach, as familiar as his own. 

“Ready?” Armin asks. 

Turning to him, Eren nods. “Yes.”

“Let’s go then.”

Closing his fingers tight around the stone, Eren pats Salka’s nose and leaves the ocean behind, and with it his one goal since he was a child. He’s got a new one now, a better one. A far more important one. 

He must hand over his gift. Even if Levi throws it against his head and tells him to go fuck himself. Even if Levi refuses to see him, and Eren has to chuck it through a window. Eren has to keep this promise and give him this token of his apology. He must see his friend again. If it’s the last thing he does. 

*

Whereas time at the ocean went by in a haze, the weeks on the road back feel like they stretch into months. 

It would be boring if it weren’t this vexing, Eren thinks, each step insufficient and short, too short. 

The marshland expands into a yucky eternity of relentless muck and black mosquito swarms shrieking in his ears, and he thinks he will hear their  _ bzz-bzz-bzzzz! _ until the end of his days. 

It’s not as torrid anymore as it was their first time here, but with autumn, the dampness increases, and Eren almost wishes for the skin-cracking heat to return. 

The distance to their destination doesn’t seem to decrease. It seems to stretch as it shortens, growing new paths and hurdles; like a waggon wheel breaking one afternoon, or the October symptoms knocking Eren out of the saddle one noon so hard, he spends the day before his November dose in the medics’ cart, Mikasa a pale quiet shadow sitting at his side. 

With the refreshed serum coursing through his body, Eren is the first to be finished packing every morning, and the first to stare into the evening campfire, despising having to sit and wait, not moving forward until the next dawn. Sleep won’t come any easier than it did the past year, and as they ride north, the fitful rest only increases. It doesn’t matter. Each sunrise, his heart pounds, sending squirming hot energy into his veins, quickening his chores until he paces up and down the camp, waiting for the others to fucking get ready too. 

Autumn advances with each hour. Leaves turn colourful as the trees bleed their spirit out, and despite the sun’s radiant glow warming their backs in a way only this season can, the shadows carry a bite that heralds nature’s winter retreat. 

Squirrels hunt for nuts hanging ripe and fat from the trees, skipping from branch to branch with a speed Eren wishes for himself. Birds gather above their heads, forming screeching swarms before flying south, south, south. Eren scowls after them and urges Salka in the opposite direction. 

He’s been south. He doesn’t want to see it again. 

The colours start to fall off the trees. A small beech leaf here, brown and earthen, a rainbow of acorn there. Nature grows back to how Eren knows it, and as his blood thrums in his ears, he counts familiar things. 

Douglas firs. A local woodpecker. The first birch, reflecting the autumn glow in friendly white and gold. 

The way the ground feels and sounds beneath Salka’s hooves.

“We’re coming closer,” Sasha says one afternoon. “Lots of horse marks in this area. And human footprints. Look.”

That night, Eren is tempted to ride on on his own when Armin declares they pitch camp. Defiance would be stupid, Eren knows it. Petulant and selfishly irrational too. They must still be days away, but anticipation yanks at his nerves until his arms and chest blaze in an implacable drive to push forward. Levi would sigh and tell him to finally learn some fucking patience. 

Salka is restless too. Dancing in place as though standing still would violate everything she knows after moving for months. 

“Eren,” Armin says, blue eyes calm and worried. “You know the horses need a break.” 

The  _ so do you, _ is engraved in the line on his brow, but at least he doesn’t say it. 

Eren hates that Armin is so reasonable all the time, yet he grits his teeth and dismounts. 

*

Not half a week later, Niv’s whoop fills the morning air. “The Walls!” He points ahead. “It’s bloody fucking Maria, we’re almost there!”

Eren squints his eyes, and as he makes out the small grey line appearing at the horizon, his heart stutters. Tears of relief threaten his eyes, and everything but that once-hated confinement fades into a distant memory until Eren has to tilt his head to see the top and familiarity kicks in. 

They pass gentle curves of grass that will bloom bellflowers in spring, and as they enter Shiganshina through a newly-built gate, Eren holds on so tight to Salka’s reins, the leather bites into his digits. Ten years ago, he wanted nothing more than to leave this place. He found the air stuffy and hostile inside these Walls. Now, his heart flies as he takes a deep breath, and he’d give everything to be allowed to stay. 

He’s so relieved, it takes him a moment to notice the masses of people assaulting his senses with noise and jubilance.

He should have known someone saw them approaching and alerted the locals, Eren thinks as brass music blares to their welcome, and he distinguishes cheers from all the clamour. Flowers fly through the air. People with notepads push through the crowd, barking for first impressions of the outside world with frenzied eyes. Reporters. How Eren did not miss them.

As they elbow a small boy in his face to come closer, Eren has to clench his mouth shut to not leap off Salka and put them in their place. He shoots them blue eyes though. 

It doesn’t help. 

“Eren Yaeger! It’s truly you. What is it like to be back home? Could you give us an interview?”

“Oh look,” Niv mutters with a grin. “The groupies welcome you back, wonderboy. It’s like having your own court filled with poodles.” He snarls before hanging his tongue out like a dog. 

Sasha and Connie laugh. 

“Shut up, Niv,” Eren says, though it lacks the intended venom. It would be great to tell the reporters to go fuck themselves and go out on their own if they’re so eager for impressions.

“Move on,” Armin says over his shoulder. 

Eren couldn’t be happier to follow an order. Disdain for reporters aside, he never understood why people so much focus on him all the time when Armin, Mikasa, and the rest of his friends stand right beside him. 

The line of people stretches down the entire district’s main road. It’s like after the end of the war, when people glorified their final battle and imposed on them all during celebration weeks. It reminds Eren of why he wanted to leave in March, in addition to all the other reasons that drove him away. Having spent the good part of a year outside of civilisation, Eren’s pulse speeds at all the shouts, scents, colours, and movements. Going by Salka’s flicking ears, she isn’t too happy about it either. 

If it only were the kids welcoming them, it would be different. Their eyes shine and their mouths stand open, hopes and dreams glowing on their curious faces, like Eren felt so many, many years ago, whenever the Survey Corps passed this town. 

The adults, on the other hand, are nothing but sensational. They hinder their way and offer them food and ale, and their homes to stay at for a night or two after the long journey. The local Garrison and Military Police are present as well, urging them off their horses in an invitation to join their HQ and tell about their travels. 

Armin smiles. “What a generous offer. Thank you. We have about a dozen men plus horses who’d be grateful to not move on today if that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Holding onto Salka’s reins, Eren rolls his eyes and bites on his tongue to remain silent. What a pile of bullshit. Armin planned this to appease the districts they’d have to pass. Fourteen men in total, ten for Shiganshina, four for Trost. Fucking politics. 

The man from the Garrison beams. “Of course, of course. We’d be honoured, Mister Arlert,” he says with a clap. “But what about you, Sir? Won’t you stay for breakfast at least? We’d be happy to show you around your old hometown.”

Leaving them to their talk, Eren peers around. They passed the road to his parents’ house some minutes ago, and it doesn’t look like anything he remembers. His crystallised Titan still seals the hole as a reminder of what happened, both the day of the attack and five years after. Candles surround it with flowers added as a tribute. Eren doesn’t want to stay anywhere where people are stupid enough to worship him. 

Salka prances as if she feels his unease, and Eren pats her neck with a soothing sound. Shiganshina might not be the cage he once thought it was, but it isn’t his hometown anymore either. It hasn’t been since Reiner smashed its houses to pieces and Eren’s mother right with it. Eren knew that long before what happened to Armin. 

Pressing his lips together, he resists the urge to search for a familiar rooftop. It’s too far behind them now anyhow, though he can feel the prickle in his nape. As Mikasa glances at Armin negotiating with the still gesturing Garrison officer, Eren wonders whether she feels it too. 

“Thank you, but I can’t,” Armin says with a shake of his head. “We both can’t. The rest of us have urgent business at HQ.”

Eren sighs and takes a deep breath to ease the rush in his blood as he follows Armin through the second gate, leaving Shiganshina behind. 

Forty-eight hours left. 

*

The last weeks of their journey might have felt like months, and the final hours stretch into years. They ride on that first day within the Walls, only halting at dusk and resaddling their horses before any daylight rises on the horizon. 

Fastening the final strap of Salka’s bridles, Eren closes his eyes and rests his brow against her warm neck. “You’ll be home soon,” he says. “A few more hours. Maybe noon. Then you can eat some fine hay, and maybe I’ll find a carrot to pilfer for you, okay? We can do this.”

He takes another deep breath and climbs onto her back, retracing his steps from where he left eight months ago. 

Everything looks so familiar from there on. Ruins from the war. A farm—not theirs from back then but similar enough to send Eren’s pulse racing. A cottage at a river. And people. So many people. 

Wall Rose. Trost. A fragment of the boulder he once moved, kept as a memorial after the reconstruction of the gate. Blue bellflowers where he shielded Armin and Mikasa against a cannonball. It feels like it happened in another life.

Beautiful plains. A familiar forest. Fields stretching before them, bare after the harvest and ploughed up for winter. Others rich with cabbage.

Eren’s heart won’t stop lurching.

A small bend. And there, finally, a castle. Towering before a small town and looking like the most welcoming building Eren has ever seen. 

They enter the courtyard, and as he spots a messy ponytail in the midst of a congregation, Eren has to struggle to not fall off Salka the second time within a week. 

A gasp escapes him. “Hanji.” 

She turns, smile huge on her face, and the next thing Eren knows, his wobbly feet meet gravel ground, and Hanji knocks him backwards in a rib-crushing hug. Too relieved to be surprised, his arms fold around her, and when Eren smells well-known soap in her hair, his eyes water. 

“You’re home,” she says against his chest. “You’re finally home. You smell like family. We missed you so much.”

“Hanji,” he says again. “I missed you too.” Warm, she is so warm. Eren never wants to let her go again.

“I forgot how tall you are. And how feverish. And oh, we were so worried about you when Armin’s last messages arrived. It’s good you went ahead of the waggons. Have you truly been better the past days?”

Gulping hard, he steps back and meets her scrutinising brown gaze behind glasses he doesn’t think she wore when he left. “I have, yes.”

“Good,” she says, patting his hand. Her eyes search Armin in the crowd. “We’ll have to test you. You really don’t look healthy, even I see that. You have new wrinkles I don’t like at all. But tomorrow. You’ll have other things to do today, though Levi will frown when he sees how thin you’ve become.” She squeezes his hand and whispers, “No worries, he still doesn’t know about the symptoms.”

Eren breathes against tears. “Thank you.” He releases her and looks around as he takes a step back. “Where is he?” Levi can’t be here…

Hanji wipes her eyes with a sniff, though she beams. “Working. Where else. He’s been throwing himself into it since the moment you left. He found the place right that morning and already bought it a day after, can you believe that? Armin!” She embraces him too and starts to chatter a similar stream at him she already dumped on Eren. 

Someone beside her clears his throat. “Hello, Eren,” Tom says. 

“Oh,” Eren says, only noticing him now. “Hey.”

“You don’t look well.”

“Don’t bother,” Jean says in Eren’s stead. “We kept telling him, and got nothing but shit for it.” He dismounts too, grins, and claps Tom on his back when he smiles and pulls him into a brief hug. 

“Jean. Good you’re back.” 

“Rode as fast as we could the past days,” he says. 

“Mm. Daegel said he told you the recent news?” Tom’s light green eyes flit to Eren before settling on Jean again. 

“He did, yes. We’ll go there as soon as we can.” 

“The six of you? Good.” Tom nods. “He’ll be glad to see you. Has been on the edge since we heard you were close. I ordered everyone to clear you the space this afternoon. Thought you’d prefer some quality time.”

Jean nods. “Thank you, Tom.”

Eren rubs his arm. So Levi knows they’re coming. His stomach clenches at the knowledge, and it takes him a moment to notice Hanji let go of Armin and smiles at him. 

“I have good news for you, Eren,” she cheers. “Such good news. So much happened since you left, you wouldn’t believe it! We’ll have so much to talk about. There are new laws and plans in the military. And our dungeon laboratory is finally done, I’ll have to show you my new beakers, they’re brilliant!” 

Her arms fly in the air as she speaks, and though her voice is loud and the flood of words overpowering, Eren smiles as he listens to her. Yes, he missed her manic rambling too. 

“…anyway.” Her hands shoot forward to clamp hard around his wrists. “What do you say about teach–”

“Eren!” Daegel shouts, right before a pair of fists pummel his arm. A moment later, Eren finds himself in a headlock. 

He pushes his way out of it. “What was that for?” he grumbles, shoving back with a grin. 

“Wow. You positively stink,” Daegel says, grinning back. “You must have ridden like the devil was after you. Get clean and then off with you. We won’t let you in for dinner before you have visited the local café. You’ll love the cake there.” He turns to Jean. “Your picture waits in your quarters. Framed as you told me to.”

“Thank you.” 

Daegel slaps Jean’s shoulder. “No worries. Now off you go. We’ll take care of the horses for you too. Hey Niv, you wanker!” He shoulders his way through with a laugh. “Good to see your ugly mug again.” 

“I’ll take her,” Red says, appearing at Tom’s side. His hand reaches for Salka.

Pushing it away, Eren grasps the reins. “No.” 

Red’s fiery eyebrows draw up. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just thought it might get you ready earlier. I have a feeling, Levi’s waiting too.”

Eren sighs. “Sorry. I’ll take care of her myself, thanks.” 

“Suit yourself.” Red shrugs and takes over Jean’s mare instead. 

Nibbles snuffles and lets herself be guided along.

Looking at Eren, Hanji nods. “You truly should go see Levi right away. You must have so much to catch up on. And afterwards, we’ll have a little chat, okay? Salka has her old stall.” 

*

Eren’s fingers tingle as he guides Salka to her box. It feels odd to lock her up again after months of living under the sky, but they haven’t set three steps into the stables when a delighted whinnying and trampling at the far end of the row makes Eren’s heart stop. 

Salka rushes forward, and Eren follows on her heels. His fingers slip on the hook as he opens a stable as familiar as Salka’s. A dark nose nuzzles his neck, puffing and snuggling with delight and licking his chin when he reaches up to rub a big ear. 

“Meraki,” he chuckles, tears pressing out after all. “Yes, girl. I missed you too.” He embraces her long neck, presses his face into her dark fur, and for a moment lets his emotions overwhelm him. 

“I’m back.”

*

It takes almost an hour to have both horses calmed and Salka groomed to perfection. Someone left a small bowl with sugar cubes in Salka’s box, and Eren divides the treats amongst both mares. 

Then he starts to muck. It’s not that Salka’s box looks like it’s been used at all in their absence, and everything is prepared fresh. But Meraki stands in hay and straw that smells like it could use a doover, and Salka’s box shows residues of dirt all around the edges. Eren’s boots left muddy footprints too, and no matter how eager he is to see Levi, this is more important right now. Aside from the calming effect it has on his pulse, it eases the tension in his stiff neck too. 

Like this, the task is almost over too soon, and Eren has to admit there’s nothing left other than getting ready. He stores away the pitchfork and gives Salka a grateful pat on her nose. 

“Thank you for pulling through with me,” he says, smiling when she nuzzles his neck. “I’ll see you again tomorrow, yeah?” He gives her the second to last sugar cube and turns to Meraki in the neighbouring box. 

“I’ll tell Levi hello from you, yes? I’m going to see him now. Well…after a shower.” It feels like his heart throbs on his tongue. He hasn’t felt this nervous since…he can’t remember ever feeling this nervous. “You think he’ll want to see me?”

Meraki snuffles. Nibbles on his nose.

Eren laughs. “I missed you too, girl.” He feeds her the final treat and takes a bracing breath as his thoughts carry him down the road into town. “I won’t hurt him more than I already did,” he mumbles against Meraki’s neck. “I promise. I won’t fuck up things with him another time.”

She nods as if she understands, and Eren smiles. 

“I brought him something, you know?” His lips draw to a side as he rubs her ear, and something about the gentle nudge against his chest makes Eren want to show her. Ask for permission. “It’s a stone from the ocean,” he says. “Wanna see?” He wipes his hands on his jacket before he fishes for the stone in his left chest pocket, holding it out for her to examine. 

Despite the time it spent away from the sea, little fragments of sand and seashells are still embedded in its smooth surface. 

“What do you think, huh?” Eren asks as Meraki’s huge nostrils sniff the rock. “You think he’ll like it? He always said he needed a paperweight. Maybe he got one with the café but…I don’t know.” 

Meraki shakes her head with flicking ears and looks at him with infinitely kind eyes. 

“You approve?” he asks. 

Maybe it’s silly to ask a horse for permission to give its owner a gift, but at another flick of her ears, a tight knot within Eren unclenches. 

“Good.” He puts the stone away again, and sighs at the nagging flutter in his insides that pushes him to go to the café now, right now! He never was good at restraint, he muses. But he can’t go to Levi looking and smelling like he rolled around in the filthy mud for a good part of the year. He swears he still has sand in his hair, and Daegel was right when he said Eren stinks. 

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. “Wish me luck.”

He locks the stalls behind him, gives Meraki another pat on her nose, smiles at Salka, and exits the stables in a haze. 

He can’t wait to wash off all this dirt.


	6. Hearth

Someone dusted Eren’s old quarters in his absence and did a dissatisfying job with it too, yet otherwise, everything is exactly as he left it. A narrow bed, no kitchenette, no room for a desk. Only a nightstand, a closet, and a small bathroom with a sink, a toilet, and a shower cabin. It feels more luxurious than he remembers ever living. 

Closing the door, Eren hangs his bundle on a hook, removes his dust-covered boots, and undresses right in the entrance. His clothes truly reek, and feel like if they’re left out in the open like this, they’ll spoil the immaculacy of this room. He rubs his bare chest where a distinct pressure has been building since passing the gates of Shiganshina, and opens his closet for a laundry bag. Shimmying out of his pants and underwear too, he retrieves the stone from his chest pocket and places it on his nightstand. 

Hand scraping through his hair, he fetches fresh soap, steps into the shower, and groans as the first jet hits his shoulder. Hot water from pipes must be an invention from heaven on earth. 

Eren washes his hair three times, scrubs his skin from head to toe until it steams all over from the bristles, and when he emerges from the tiny bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, he feels more human than he’s felt in months. His room feels foreign to him nonetheless—quiet, finally quiet. Familiar, yes, but still foreign. It’s like the room has invisible spikes in spots that should be smooth and soft. As though the air carries one of these chills that no lit fire can dispel. 

Lowering himself onto the squeaking bed and sinking deeper than he remembers after too many nights on hard ground, he listens into the silence and looks around. Sorrow and fright rest in the walls, even after all these months. Eren can taste it, feel it on his back like nails raking down his spine. 

He shivers, and fighting the hard lump in his throat that tells him Levi does not want to see him, Eren’s hand reaches for the stone to his right. 

To his surprise, it doesn’t feel dirty as he turns it around in his fingers. It feels smooth and like the same promise he sensed when he found it. 

Eren bites his lip. 

He doesn’t know whether or not to take it to Levi right away. Of course, he can’t wait to hand it over, and he will. Eren vowed it to himself. Yet whatever Tom says, it’s unlikely Levi and Eren will be alone today. 

Customers aside, Jean will be there and Mikasa and Armin. Connie will make a joke about the whole thing, and Sasha will laugh, telling Levi how often Eren took the pebble out on their way back to find strength at its sight. Eren doesn’t give a shit about being mocked, yet the stone feels too sacred to be ridiculed. It also stands for amends. With an audience, Eren won’t be able to tell Levi what he wants to say. Furthermore, ever since he found the rock, he’s been relying on it to bring him good luck, whether he believes in these things or not. 

What he’s going to do today, what he  _ has _ to do, feels so important, relying on a lucky talisman feels like cheating. If he wants to do this right, if he wants to meet Levi and talk to him—properly talk to him again for the first time in a year—he must do this on his own. No tricks, no help, no shields. He has to be alone in this, bare of any support. He doesn’t deserve it anyway. Not after what he did. 

_ Soon, _ he promises, setting the stone back on his nightstand. 

He stands and searches for fresh clothes. He has to brush his hair, trim his nails, and shave. He’ll have to polish his boots as well before he goes. He can’t face Levi looking anything else than impeccable. 

*

He’s fully dressed and checking the second boot for remaining dirt when a bang comes on his door. 

“You in there, mate?” The door opens, and Jean pokes his head in. “What are you still doing here?”

Eren scowls. “Getting ready, what do you think?”

Jean rolls his eyes. “We’ve been waiting downstairs for over twenty minutes. Come on. He won’t bite your head off for a smudge of mud on your shoes.” He pauses. Frowns. “How many times did you shower? It smells like a fucking soap factory in here.”

“Fuck off. I’ll be down in a sec.” 

Jean huffs. “Right.” He enters, folds his arms, and leans against the open door frame. 

Sighing, Eren tries his best to ignore him. At least the boot seems to be good. He puts it on, sensing light brown eyes on him. He wishes Jean weren’t here. His presence makes his blood boil. His insides can’t stop squirming either, and though it’s not Jean who causes his body to feel like it forgot how to work, his composed  _ you know I’m superior to you _ appearance doesn’t make it any better.

“Need someone to punch?” Jean asks. 

Eren scoffs. The offer is tempting, but he won’t. Not today. 

What will Levi think if he barely is back before getting into a fight, with Jean of all people? He might heal quickly, but Jean doesn’t, plus Levi will know if he did something stupid. Eren disappointed him enough already.

“No,” he says, ruffling his damp hair. His fingers feel like insects are crawling inside. As does his stomach. His palms are sweaty. His pulse won’t stop thrashing. 

“Showering felt good, didn’t it?” Jean asks. 

Huffing, Eren slips into a new jacket he found in his closet. Hanji must have put it there. His hands feel fuzzy as he tugs the lapels in place. “Haven’t felt this clean in almost a year,” he admits. 

Jean hums. His gaze won’t leave Eren’s back. “Sure you’re okay?”

“What do you care?” Eren snaps, moving towards the entrance where Jean peels himself off the wall. 

“Beats me too sometimes.” His chin jerks towards the stone. “Not taking that with you?”

“No,” Eren says, lungs struggling for enough air. “Not today.”

“All right,” Jean says and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s go then. He must be waiting for you.”

“Highly doubt that,” Eren mutters, but follows Jean anyway, his heart a pounding mess high up in his throat. 

*

It’s odd to walk through the town. Eren hasn’t felt cobblestones beneath his feet for so long, he almost forgot how they click with every step and poke against the soles of his feet. It’s early afternoon, and the streets are almost deserted, some merchants, stray pedestrians and carriages crossing their path aside. Their conversations fill the air, yet Eren barely hears a word. His body is up in arms. 

His hands are still sweaty. His neck aches. His lungs won’t cooperate as they should. His wobbly legs move like they had their own will, following Sasha leading their little group. She chatters with Armin about cake and seasonal fruit while Connie laughs. Jean is quiet, as is Mikasa, her thin eyebrows forming a knitted line on her brow. 

“That must be it!” Sasha squeals, pointing at a house down the road. 

Eren looks up, and his heart does a funny flip.

The window panes of a shop front glisten in the afternoon sun, reflecting the light in golden hues surrounded by black-painted trim. The area before the house is clear of leaves, even in the midst of autumn. Aside from the entrance, the facade is white, the window shutters on the upper level varnished in a colour somewhere between green and blue. Wild vine twines its way up one side of the house, the leaves vividly coloured by the season. A brickearth nest peeks out from under the dented, orange-tiled roof. A nuthatch chirps nearby. Smoke puffs from one of the chimneys. 

Eren’s chest hurts. His feet falter, and he needs a moment to breathe. 

Beautiful. This house is beautiful. 

Levi lives in this house. He must be inside. Maybe looking out right now. Drinking tea or talking to customers. Near. So very near. 

“Come on,” Jean says and nudges Eren to proceed. “Deep breaths, mate.”

Jean can talk, Eren thinks as his mind races. He didn’t betray his best friend, did he?

Eren should have brought the stone with him after all. This may be his only chance. What if Levi throws all of them out? What if he sees Eren and starts to yell? What if he takes one look at Eren and sees what kinds of lurid dreams he’s been having? What if–

Armin pushes the door open with a chime of a bell, and as he stumbles inside, all Eren can do is stare. 

Bright. It’s so bright. Everything is shiny and warm. It smells like coffee and tea, like soap and wood polish. The air is toasty and kind, and Levi…Levi is shocking. 

His eyes are clear and fixed on Eren, his teeth show in a widening smile, and his cheeks are swollen with a faint pink glow that makes the tension in Eren’s chest snap. 

All these months filled with worry and fear, and here Levi is, smiling. Smiling at him. Lost for anything to say, Eren smiles back. 

The moment breaks when Sasha erupts in a cry of joy before she dashes forward, arms flying around Levi to hug him tight. 

“Easy there, Sash,” Jean huffs. “Let the man breathe, for fuck’s sake.”

Eren gulps, a weird impulse wanting to tear her away from Levi and embrace him as well, whilst at the same time being relieved the spell is broken. He has to collect himself. 

Averting his gaze from Levi’s startled expression at Sasha’s zeal, Eren scans the café. It’s empty, just as Tom predicted. Six small tables are scattered across the room, four round, two square. The wooden floorboards look luxurious, the red-padded chairs and armchairs cosy, and Eren smiles at the lack of dust. Drawings hang on the wall. Bar stools line the counter which shines in the most beautiful shade of brass Eren has ever seen. His eyes land on a small picture frame standing on the worktop. Eren blinks at Jean’s familiar coal lines and frowns. Is that him? 

“It’s so good to see you, Captain,” Sasha says, stepping away from Levi with a beaming face. “Wow. You look so different in civilian clothes.”

While Connie chuckles, Eren looks closer. Levi looks like always to him, and though the apron is definitely new, it doesn’t  _ feel _ like a new sight. His attention is drawn towards Levi’s face again, who peers at him in a way that replaces the weight Eren carried around for the past year with long-missed tranquillity. The pain in his lungs eases. Eren doesn’t know what to say.

Then Levi speaks, and Eren truly wishes they were alone. 

“Have a seat.” His voice sounds so calm. “You can put two tables together if you want.”

“Oh, perfect.” Sasha claps. “Wow, it looks beautiful in here.”

Forcing himself to move, Eren follows the others, gaze roaming across the café. They’ve barely taken their seats when Levi stands before them, frowning as if to chide himself for something before the reaction vanishes from his face.

“What can I bring you?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Tea? Coffee?” 

“You’ve really still got coffee?” Sasha’s beam is blinding. “Please!”

“Mm,” Levi says. “Cake too, I assume.” His lips curl in a slight smirk, and Eren looks away as Sasha’s “as if you have to ask,” is followed by laughter. 

He has no idea what to order. Everything. Nothing. Is he even allowed to have anything? Will he be able to afford it? What’s Levi’s favourite? What is he most proud of? Chocolate cake sounds fantastic, but after being on the road for eight months, everything other than protein bars or wild stew sounds fantastic. 

Silence falls, and he notices they all look at him. Twiddling his fingers, Eren swallows and summons his voice. “Um, whatever you recommend?” 

The question sounds weak to his own ears, but Levi doesn’t comment aside from a nod before he turns and heads for the counter. Eren gulps again. One step at a time. He’s already here. The worst part is over. For now. 

A foot kicks his shin and Eren scowls at Jean smirking across the table. 

“What?” he hisses. 

Jean grins and shrugs. “Told you.” 

Sasha giggles. 

Eren gives them both a kick to the knees. Their behaviour is ridiculous. 

It doesn’t help he can’t focus much on anything they say. His eyes are constantly drawn to the counter where Levi opens a caddie and sets cups on the worktop. His movements are all efficient, practised, and so assured Eren wonders how fast Levi managed to slip into this new routine. Soon plates join the cups on the brass worktop, and when Levi pours tea into the last two, Eren’s stomach churns with a faint inkling of what it is. 

His suspicion is confirmed when Levi approaches and sets a steaming cup before Eren, filled with green liquid and powerful smoky scent. It’s accompanied by a piece of chocolate cake that looks so beautiful and juicy-rich Eren’s mouth waters. He’s suddenly famished. 

He tries to say thank you, yet nothing comes out but a hoarse sound, and as Levi meets his gaze with a mild smile, something hard in Eren’s midriff eases. They’ve always understood each other best without words. He nods and smiles back. 

_ How I missed you, _ he thinks, the thought coming so strong he can barely keep it in.

Levi’s brow twitches in a frown as he deals out the other orders, followed by a final cup, and Eren realises Levi is joining them. He stands as Levi returns the tray to the counter, adding a chair to the spot between Armin and Jean before taking his own seat again, frowning when he notices the cunning smile on Armin’s face. He thinks they said something, knows he heard them all chuckle afterwards, but by no stretch of his mind, he can recall what it was. 

Brushing a strand of his fringe out of his brow, he focuses on his plate, and on keeping his breath even as Levi sits opposite him. 

It all feels so absurd. He’s fought in a war. He defeated an entire race of enemies, laughed in their faces while other people ran away screaming, and now he can’t even sit across from an old friend, sharing a pot of tea. Afraid of spending a handful of hours with someone who once understood him better than anybody. Pathetic. 

He bites on the inside of his cheek and pulls himself together. 

“This is so perfect,” Sasha mumbles, pitching into her share of cake. 

Jean snorts. “You know what you are getting yourself into here, don’t you?”

“Some things never change,” Levi says, dark fringe falling softly over his brow. 

With the light shining in from the windows, new lines show on his face that weren’t there a year ago. The shadows beneath his eyes appear both lighter and darker, and if Eren isn’t mistaken, Levi’s hair isn’t as pitch black as he remembers, though it still looks just as silky. His irises, though, his irises remain the same. Firm and so clear it’s almost painful to see them this close. His presence the same too, relaxed, yet alert, and the faint pink dust from earlier still lingers on his cheekbones. He looks so real. 

_ Please, let me be your friend again, _ shoots through Eren’s head, but this is not the right moment to plead. 

Focusing on a corner of his cake slice, he cuts through yielding chocolate sponge. He can feel Levi’s gaze on him, but tries to ignore it. Lifting the bite, he thinks he can already taste it. It will be good, sticky and bittersweet. Real, homemade food…

It melts on his tongue, and Eren has a hard time not crying at the taste. The icing is velvety, smooth, and creamy, bursts with the flavour of everything that’s good. He takes a careful sip of the steaming tea, and smiles. The combination is heavenly. 

Shifting on his seat, he clears his throat, meets Levi’s eyes, and nods a wordless  _ thank you. _

Levi nods back, and Eren drowns his nerves in another sip of Gunpowder. It’s brewed to absolute perfection. Far better than he ever managed on the road. 

Focusing on his tea, Levi drinks too. He still holds the cup from above. “How does it feel to have a real crapper back?” he asks, and despite all the other emotions raging in his chest, Eren can’t control his snort. 

It’s so good to hear Levi talk again. Not wasting any time on pleasantries. Voice deep and with a ring to it that warms Eren through and through. 

“Fucking brilliant,” Jean says. “Will be nice to have a real mirror in the mornings again too.” 

“And a shower,” Connie adds with a grin. 

“Three good meals a day too,” Sasha mumbles through a mouthful of cake. 

Levi hums. “Don’t miss the road already?” The words are calm and self-assured, but his eyes look hesitant. A pale finger taps on his cup. 

Jean harrumphs. “Not really in my case. We’re not all like Armin.” 

“Mm.” Levi nods. “How long will you stay?”

Sensing Mikasa’s scrutiny on him, Eren scratches his arm. He hopes to never see the road again, but it feels wrong to admit that out loud. Too soon. Too pushy. It will definitely be a mistake to say so before he knows Levi will not want him gone again as quickly as possible. 

“We’ll see.” Armin shrugs. “Hanji says she has lots of things to discuss, so I doubt any time soon.” 

An elegant dark eyebrow lifts in an almost mocking arch. “She hasn’t pestered you already? Miracles never cease.” 

Collecting some cocoa crumbs from his plate, Eren smiles at the betraying fondness in Levi’s voice. 

“Wanted to get us here, I suppose,” Armin says. “We can catch up later. It must have been some exciting months for you. She wrote about restructuring in the military.”

Levi hums again.

“Is it true the Corps will have its own Cadets soon?” Jean says. “Heard something earlier, but not much.”

“New directive. Top brass needs Scouts and doesn’t want to train them themselves.”

“So nothing’s changed, huh?” Jean asks. 

Levi snorts. “Four-eyes got new glasses.” 

Biting his lip, Eren smiles.  _ Liar, _ he thinks.  _ You have a café.  _

“So she’s still looking for Instructors?” Armin asks. His eyebrows are raised at Levi, and Eren frowns. His question is almost too breezy.

Going by the way Levi’s finger taps against his cup again with a flicker of suspicion ghosting over his eyes, he notices it too. “So it seems.” He nods at Sasha’s empty plate. “Cherry pie next?”

She smacks her mouth. It’s smeared with chocolate icing. “Oh, please!” 

“Mm.”

Returning from the counter with more cake for Sasha, Levi reclaims his chair and wraps his fingers back around his cup. “Now tell me what you saw out there.”

*

In the following hour, Eren attempts restraint, eating his cake as slowly as possible whilst forcing himself to listen in on the conversation around him. It doesn’t work. 

His eyes constantly flit around in the café, regard the writing on the window that reads ‘Sparrow Tea & More’ in reverse letters from this side of the panes. He looks at the shelves with tea supplies decorating the walls and, inevitably, at small hands which look less calloused than he remembers, yet just as delicate, pale, and strong. 

A door in the long wall opposite the window front looks like it leads up to the flat. Gaze trailing on, Eren regards the ceiling. It must be a big living area if it spans across the entire café. Almost too big for one single person, yet Eren can’t hear any footsteps or creaking floorboards from above. 

He wants to see what’s up there. 

Frowning into his tea, Eren gulps. 

So far, he hasn’t said a single word since he entered, and the mixture of various  _ I’m sorry’s _ and a thousand  _ I missed you’s _ bubble up within him. If he keeps them in much longer, they will burst, and he right with them. Not that he knows where to even begin. 

“I’m hungry!” Sasha’s declaration pulls him from his reverie. “I think we should go back before we miss dinner. I want to settle in a bit before.” 

“You have two shirts and your spices to unpack,” Jean points out. 

“So?”

He snorts and lifts his hands. “Just saying. Anyway. It’s getting dark.”

Frowning, Eren turns to see Jean is right. The sun has set, and the street lamps outside have been lit. When did that happen? 

His breath regains speed. He doesn’t want to go. Not yet. He’d rather have no dinner at all than fail to do what he came here for. 

He gazes across the table and is met by a pair of grounding eyes. Eren swallows, and gives himself a push.

He raises an eyebrow.  _ Can we talk? _

Levi’s nod is small, yet relaxes Eren’s shoulders. His lungs ease too, and he looks into the round. “I’ll stay,” he says, trying his best to neither squirm, nor scowl when Mikasa narrows her eyes at him. 

To his relief, she lets it go, standing with the others. Darting Eren another glance, Levi rises as well, collecting the empty dishes. The impulse to help is almost overpowering, but Levi’s gaze flicks to him in an unspoken  _ no, _ and Eren stays put, letting Levi carry the china to a small room behind the counter on his own. 

“What do we owe you for the food?” Jean asks after moving the second table to its original position. 

“Cake’s on the house,” Levi says, and Eren swallows a fond smile at the brisk remark with the last cooled drops of aromatic Gunpowder. “Coffee’s a nickel per cup.” 

Coins knock on brass, a till clatters, followed by “goodbye” and “see you soon” and the chime of a bell. The door closes with a breeze of rich-smelling autumn air wafting into the café, and silence settles in the room. 

Eren gulps. Levi looks at him. Eren looks back. 

They’re alone. 

Despite the panic squirming in his chest, Eren manages to uphold their eye contact as Levi approaches, sits, and takes his cup before setting it down again with a startled blink of his eyes. It sounds empty too.

“Refill?” He points at Eren’s cup. 

More delicious tea? Eren nods. “Yes, please.”

Smiling and frowning at the same time, Levi rises, taking both cups to the counter. 

Occupying himself as he listens to the quiet sounds of rattling china and pouring water, Eren picks at his nails. Then he realises what he’s doing and folds his fingers in his lap. His palms haven’t stopped sweating since he entered this place hours ago, and he wishes he could tell them to stop. If Levi would have wanted to bite his head off, he already would have. Not serve him tea and wonderful cake and ask if Eren wanted more. 

Watching Levi work, Eren tries to sort the words and sentences in his head.

_ How have you been?  _

_ Your café is beautiful. You must be so proud of it.  _

_ Did I break things between us for good?  _

_ Am I responsible for these shadows below your eyes? What can I do to make it better?  _

_ Was Daegel right when he said someone ripped your heart out? You don’t look like it now, though I’ve certainly seen you happier.  _

_ I don’t feel safe without you. Life isn’t right when you’re not around.  _

_ I can’t explore anymore. When I stay in town, will you be all right with that? Can I visit every once in a while?  _

Too quickly, Levi is back, carrying two steaming cups and another plate he sets before Eren. 

Straightening up in his seat, Eren’s heart jumps at the sight. 

It’s a cinnamon roll. Big and sugary and so packed with spices, he doesn’t have to bite into the pastry to taste them. Warm and comforting. Like autumn. Like this place. 

“Thank you,” he says, lost for anything further to say.  _ It looks amazing. _

“Mm,” Levi says and takes the seat opposite. With the extra table between them gone, he sits closer than before, close enough Eren could pretend their friendship is still intact. 

Despite their proximity, however, there is a wall separating them that’s new. It’s not the cold regretful shield from before he left, but it’s strong and so cautious, Eren wants to take a hammer and smash it into pieces. 

A bit more than a year ago, he’d have done it. With what he already destroyed, he decides to prod it with a toe instead. 

“Never pictured you in a café,” he says, looking up and trying to rein in the rebellious smile tugging at his lips when he sees Levi’s apron. “It fits you somehow.”

Grasping for his tea, Levi lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Had to do something after retirement. Couldn’t laze around all day.”

The reply is deflective yet candid enough for Eren to sense an opening. So he holds grey eyes and pushes further with a question that has been burning in his chest from the moment he saw Levi handle his tea equipment; the most important question of them all. “Do you like it?”

Another shrug. “It’s not bad. I can drink tea all day. Don’t have to shout at people who disobey orders.” An arch glint lights up his eyes. “And if there are unwanted customers, I can kick them out.” 

Eren chuckles. “You never shouted,” he points out, taking a bite of his cinnamon roll and nearly melts as the mixture of spices explodes in his mouth. It’s fucking fantastic. “Your glare is much more effective.”

Levi’s snort tingles on Eren’s nape, and his sugar-fueled grin bursts out. Whatever Levi may say, he seems to like his new life far more than he lets on. It is odd to see him in an apron and to picture him slice cake all day long, and yet it’s also not odd at all. It feels right. Plus, Eren bets this place is still packed with knives. Three behind the counter at least, several in the staff department, depending on how big it is. One or two behind the door leading to the bathroom. 

This place seems to fit Levi, and Eren can only imagine how much time and effort it must have cost to make it into what it is. He can almost feel the place that must have inspired parts of it. A café Eren dragged Levi to on a recommendation two winters ago. They shared a cinnamon roll that day and had excellent tea out of too fancy cups. It was a beautiful place, yet far from being as beautiful as this one. 

“Well, I like it,” he says. “It’s cosy. Reminds me a bit of that place we went to. Only better.” He lifts the cinnamon roll. “This only adds up to it.”

Levi nods. “You’ll have to thank Hanji for the cosy part. I’m shit at decorating.” His gaze meets Eren in something between defence and challenge, and Eren grins. He doesn’t buy it. 

Sure, the red padding on the stools looks like something Hanji could have picked, as are the drawings on the wall, but the rest doesn’t fit her style. It’s too neat and… _ Levi _ . 

Levi’s always loved dark wood and warm earthy colours that remind him of forests and the sun. Only Levi would choose as delicate, yet classy china too—pure white and almost translucent—and the name of the café…Sparrow…it’s far too humble for anything Hanji would ever choose. That aside, Levi is too stubborn to let people interfere with his business. Hanji might have pushed him here and there and gotten on his nerves for some detail Levi only rolled his eyes over, yet she would have left all final decisions to Levi. It’s his café after all. 

Despite it all, Eren won’t push this matter. He’s grateful Levi talks to him in the first place. He doesn’t intend to fully let it rest either, though. Levi is many things, but he’s not shit at making choices. 

“You’re still better than me, I suppose.” Eren smiles and can’t stop himself from sighing at another bite of spicy sticky cinnamon roll. It’s so fucking delicious he can barely stop himself from stuffing it all into his mouth in one go. “Hanji said you bought this place the day after we left. How did you find it?”

Levi takes so long to answer, Eren looks at him again to see if something’s wrong. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he shifts on his chair, looking tentative. “I was passing and saw it standing empty,” he says eventually. “It looked right.”

Eren nods. Licks sugary-sticky spices off his lip, and can’t keep his voice from trembling when he asks, “Is this what you always wanted?”

Levi’s fingers run over the rim of his cup, and his gaze searches Eren’s in something like remorse, yet his voice is quiet and calm as he answers. “Yes, and no.”

Eren swallows. He’s always admired Levi for his blunt honesty, and as he looks into clear grey eyes, a part of the once so close connection seems to steam back. It’s a mere trickle, and far too guarded, but it’s there and so strong, Eren feels himself nod. 

“Yeah,” he says, reciprocating the honesty. “I think, I never really dreamt about the ocean either.”

It’s the first time he’s admitted to it out loud. Eren so often thought it, either to himself or in a silent conversation with a Levi that never was really there, but he never shared it with anyone. 

He swallows. Levi always made him more honest with himself, into a better person, and as understanding mildens Levi’s expression without another word spoken, a cold weight slips from Eren’s heart. “It was always Armin’s wish,” he adds. 

Levi doesn’t chide him or tell him how stupid he must have been. He doesn’t look at him with pity or with that wariness everybody else observes him with. Instead, his gaze is understanding, and Eren thinks there never was a more wonderful person. 

“How was it?” Levi asks. 

Shrugging as he searches for the right words, Eren collects spice crumbs from his plate. 

How it was… Awful, he likes to say. Beautiful. Filthy. Breathtaking. Lonely. Huge. Loud. Cold, despite all the heat. Like being able to touch the sun. Like being trapped in Ymir’s stomach. It’s all true, yet not the vast image he wants Levi to have. 

He clears his throat. “Kind of hard to describe.”

Levi nods, index finger twitching on his cup. “Do you have some time?”

Eren’s head shoots up, mouth agape, but before he can assure time is all he’s got, Levi continues. “I have bread and cheese upstairs.”

Eren’s stomach growls. Cheese? And bread? Real bread? And he is allowed to see Levi’s flat? For dinner?

“Okay,” he rasps, bright excitement suffusing his chest when Levi smiles and flicks his gaze across the café. 

“Let me clean up here first.”

“Of course,” Eren says, pushing back his chair to stand and help. He is about to ask where Levi keeps his cleaning supplies when an outstretched hand holds him back. 

“No,” Levi says, words firm, but gaze mild. “Stay put.”

Eren stares. “But…”  _ I want to help. _

“I can’t have anyone rummaging around in my own workplace.”

The curl to Levi’s lips defies his grumbled remark, and something about it is so disarming, Eren relents, plopping back onto his chair with a snort. “Okay.” He’s tempted to add a rebellious “Captain,” but Levi turns, almost in a hurry, and Eren smiles so hard his cheeks hurt. 

He’ll have dinner. With Levi. Real dinner. Not somewhere in the dirt, but inside. At a table. Sheltered and warm and without loud comrades getting on his nerves. Whatever feast the cooks are preparing for HQ, it won’t beat what’s awaiting him. 

He will bring their friendship back. It will take longer than an evening, he knows it will, but he won’t stop until they’re back where they left off. He’s already laid the groundwork, and Levi hasn’t kicked it to rubble yet. 

All Eren has to do is to not screw it up. 

*

“Ready?” Levi asks. He mopped the floor, wiped the furniture, rearranged every table and chair into neat little groups, and turned off most of the oil lamps. 

“Yeah,” Eren says all but managing to not jump to his feet. The nervousness wriggles back into full swing and rears up even further when Levi emerges from the staff department, apron gone and sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. 

Eren drags his gaze away. Levi has always been gracious. With the faint glow from the remaining oil lamps, he looks like a legend, dangerous and second to none in a way that never failed to inspire Eren. To give his everything, just to be near. With Levi, he never minded standing in the shadows.

The thought dissipates when Levi unlocks the door to the upper level before pulling it open. “After you.”

Nodding, Eren takes a step across the creaking threshold into a dark hallway. Sawdust scent envelops him, underlain by cool autumn chill coming from a small window beside a wooden staircase. 

The light reduces to the lamp in Levi’s hand as he shuts off the bottom door. “Flat’s locked too,” he says.

“Mm.” Eren figured as much and lets Levi pass in the corridor, gulping when Levi comes so close Eren can smell the soap on him. The thought strikes him Levi’s soap is the closest scent he knows to home. Levi’s soap and tea. 

Before he can ponder about it too much, the upper door opens, another light comes to life, and another, and as Eren steps in, his insides seem to rearrange. 

If possible, the flat is almost brighter than the café below. The floor is darker, yet still of a warm caramel-streaked brown. The walls are white and lined with dark wooden beams steadying the architecture. The lack of dust is striking, and it smells of polish, home and something else, something warm, that Eren associates with kindness. 

Clearing his throat, Levi strips off his shoes, and Eren follows suit, placing his boots in a neat line beside the small civilian pair before he removes his jacket too. 

Levi pads over the floor with pristine white-clad feet which make Eren thank his decision to wear new socks today. “Bathroom,” Levi says, signalling to his left. “Kitchen is up front.”

Struggling to regain control over his voice, Eren nods. To his right, a door stands wide open, and a smile bursts out. 

“You got a real bed, finally?”

Levi hums. “I even use it.”

Eren grins. “I’m glad. Told you long enough it’s not good to sleep at your desk.” 

He gives the bed another glance. It’s big. Huge, and Eren wonders why Levi would choose a bed this wide. At that thought, Eren’s stomach breaks the silence with a growl. 

Frowning, Levi looks tentative again. “Bread and cheese still okay?”

Eren chuckles. “Couldn’t think of anything better, really.”

“Mm. Would have more tonight, but my deliverer’s ill.”

“Oh,” Eren says. “I’m sorry. Is it bad?”

Levi blinks before he smirks. “Very. Diarrhoea.”

Eren snorts. “So you get your groceries delivered then?”

“The locals snuck it up on me. And their system is too efficient to refuse.”

Eren smiles as he follows him through a dining area and into a small kitchen. As he thought. The locals love Levi. 

“Do lots of them come to the café?” he asks, noticing a proud row of caddies lining a shelf. 

Levi shrugs and lights a fire in the cast iron stove before he opens a wooden door to a pantry. “Most of the patrons are soldiers. Can’t complain though.”

Meaning it goes well. Good. 

When Levi retrieves a loaf of dark bread, a churn, and a jar filled with a white mass, Eren’s mouth waters. “This looks so good,” spills out before he can hold the words in. 

It’s one of these beautiful rye loaves with a shiny chestnut crust and a fluffy looking inside. He can taste it just by looking. Malty and soft. Crumbs fly from it as Levi cuts off slices, and the urge to steal them for a foretaste prickles in Eren’s arms.

“Mm. Norman.” A small frown builds on Levi’s brow. “Local baker. Lives down the road. You had his cake today.”

“He supplies your café?”

“Yes.” 

“And the deliveries?”

“From the shopkeeper’s son. Name’s Valentin. Comes by every Friday when the shits doesn’t go around.”

Eren smiles. Levi’s always loved routines. 

The bread is sliced, and Levi sifts through a small tool holder on the opposite worktop. He fetches a wooden butter knife and scrapes pale-yellow goodness out of the churn. 

Watching him work, Eren chews on his lip. When did he last have butter? Golden, magnificent, rich and glorious butter… 

Levi’s knife sinks through the bread, cutting off a small piece before he slides it over. His eyes meet Eren’s. “Before you drool on my floor.”

“Sorry,” Eren says, heart skipping at being caught. “Haven’t had good food in a long time.” His fingers reach for the buttered bread, and he smiles at how perfect it feels. Squishy and soft with a thin and yielding crust. “This must be paradise. Thank you.”

Levi hums. Frowns. “Sasha lost her hunting and cooking skills?”

Eren’s chuckle feels odd to himself. Hoarse and like he hasn’t used it in too long. “Not really.” He holds Levi’s gaze, fingers fiddling with the bread. “Road just messed with my stomach. And after a while, protein bars taste like sawdust exploding in your mouth.”

“Always thought they taste like farts too,” Levi says with a mild smile and nods at the piece of bread in Eren’s hand. “Eat.”

As he takes a bite, Eren’s eyes close on a groan. Truly perfect. He can barely keep himself from gorging himself, but bread has to be savoured, especially when it’s as good as this. He chews carefully while Levi handles the white crumbly cheese. It looks tasty too.

The kettle whistles. 

“Odd to be indoors again?” Levi asks.

This time Eren’s chuckle comes from deeper within, and he shakes his head. “I missed it, actually,” he admits. “Will be weird to have a real bed again, though. I sat on it earlier, and almost slipped off because it dipped so deep.”

Regarding his tea collection, Levi hums. “Might take a while to adjust to that again.” 

His fingers tap on the worktop in immersed concentration before he retrieves a familiar caddie from the shelf. It’s one of those Eren knows as long as Levi himself, black with a dent on one side and beautiful golden letters on its front in a language Eren can’t read. If Levi still reserves it for the same sort of tea, they’ll have Oolong. 

He opens the small can, and Eren’s insides melt as he sees his guess confirmed by characteristic small balls of tea reaching all the way to the rim. Levi wouldn’t serve him Oolong if he wouldn’t want to…if he wouldn’t want to have Eren for dinner and listen to what he has to say.

Recollections of the ocean are something Eren wouldn’t want to dive into before they sit and Levi can listen without having to prepare anything, though. So he smiles and tries to contain his relief before it will rupture out of him in a mess of words that won’t make any sense. 

As he searches for another topic, Eren’s gaze is caught by the tea shelf again. Several cans he’s never seen before.

“Is this all tea you sell downstairs too?” Eren asks. 

A whimsical smile twitches on Levi’s face that tells Eren he hasn’t abandoned his habit of frequenting the black market for personal treasures amongst his selection. “Not all of it. Few real tea drinkers amongst the customers.” 

Eren scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “Fucking coffee.”

Levi shrugs. “It fills the till.” He smirks with a side-eyed glance. “Don’t tell Hanji I said that.”

Insides stretching in satisfaction at being part of a secret, Eren grins. “I won’t.” His mirthful ease wavers, however, when he looks back at the shelf. His fingers twiddle with the last bite of bread. 

“Thank you again for the Assam,” he says, holding curious grey eyes. “It always made everything better,” Eren admits and pops the remaining bread into his mouth to keep further words in, including the confession he had a minor meltdown over emptying it.

Though he must catch Eren’s reddening earlobes, Levi’s frown softens, and he nods, lifting the tea sieve out of the pot. “Good,” he says with a gentle chin-jerk towards the dining table. “Sit.”

Smiling, Eren moves to set the table. “I’ll help–”

“Sit,” Levi repeats, and though the order lacks any bite, Eren complies.

*

Eren still speaks of the ocean when their plates are emptied and the third Oolong infusion is coming to a close. His throat hurts from all the talking, but Levi looks at him with open eyes, asks the right questions, and Eren realises how he missed telling someone what’s going on in his head. To have someone who listens as well as Levi and understands without having to ask. 

Soon enough, it almost feels like Eren never screwed things up between them, and when Levi shudders at the recollection of Sasha spitting out sea water because of how salty it was, Eren laughs until he has a stitch and Levi smirks too, emptying the rest of Oolong into Eren’s cup. 

Eren smiles at the gesture. Aside from a few exceptions, he hasn’t enjoyed drinking tea with anyone these past months. It always carried a feeling of nostalgia, never felt right, and as Levi’s hand comes to a rest on his own cup, Eren never wished more Levi would have been with them. 

At least he’s here now. And tea never tasted better. 

Still, despite the easy conversation, a certain reserve lingers in the air. It doesn’t match the regretful distance from the past winter, but it is far from the friendly familiarity they once shared. It’s become harder to read Levi, and Eren doesn’t know whether he’s simply out of practice, or whether Levi keeps him at distance on purpose. It’s not even far, maybe an arm’s length. Close enough to let Eren see yet not close enough to let him look behind the guards. 

It’s only fair, Eren muses. He’s been here for hours now, though it feels shorter, and the flat far, far too familiar at the same time. And yet, he hasn’t apologised as he wanted to. Neither has he told Levi outright he never should have left. Eren wishes he could confess everything—how he missed their friendship, how he thought of it every day, how he wants nothing more than to have it back… Yet all of it feels like a demand or a prompt or an accusation, and Levi deserves better. 

Best would be to present a peace offering, and hopefully, Levi will understand the gesture as the fresh start Eren wants it to be. 

Wrapping his hand around his cup, Eren shifts on his chair and meets Levi’s eyes. “I remembered my promise,” he says, fingers fastening a bit tighter around the warm porcelain. “I brought you a stone. You always said you needed a paperweight, and somehow…I don’t know.”

Levi stares, and Eren frowns, resisting the urge to scratch his arm when the silence becomes grave. “I didn’t know if I should wash it first,” he says, “but I believe there’s still a trace of salt on it, so I didn’t.” He frowns, wondering what he’s even saying. He must sound like an idiot. “It’s silly, really,” he adds. “I know you don’t like presents much and I– Should I…”

“No,” Levi says, straightening in his chair. His voice is gentle and soft, his eyes blink a bit too much. “No, not at all. Thank you.” A faint shine lights up his eyes, adding to a slow warm glow between them, and Eren wants to sigh with relief.

“Good,” he says. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow then.” 

Levi nods, and Eren hides his tension-release in his Oolong. 

Frowning at Eren to stay put, Levi empties the table and carries the used dishes to the sink. Eren obeys, watching the trained movements from afar before focussing on the living room. The set of armchairs catches his attention, and he smiles when he recognises the leather chair Hanji collected money for before Levi’s retirement. Everyone at HQ pitched in. 

The other chair is one of those bigger corduroy ones Levi has in his café. It is just as red and looks like the kind of cosy you want to curl up and sleep in. It must be Hanji’s. 

Hands twiddling in his lap, Eren takes another stealthy glance around. 

Despite his first suspicions Levi might not live alone, everything in here makes it obvious that he does. The rooms are furnished sparsely, containing only the necessary: The coffee table between the armchairs at the fireplace, the dining table with its three chairs that look too old for Levi to have bought them new, so they must have come with this place. The kitchen is dominated by tea utensils and kitchen knives. Barely any other personal items. No plants, no niceties or odd items with mere emotional value that make a home into a home. 

Interior aside, after a decade of military life with soldiers bustling around at all times, this place must feel hollow to Levi some days. Sure he has people in his café all day long, but it’s not the same. They are customers, first and foremost. Not friends. Even Eren’s friends went back earlier for dinner, not considering to ask how Levi lives these days. 

Looking at the twin set of comfy chairs, Eren can picture Levi sitting there every evening. He’d nurse a cup of tea, then a second one, and frown his neutral frown into the flames. With the only sounds he hears being an occasional noise on the street, a  _ drip! _ of a spigot, and the flicker of the fire. It’s the sad kind of silent. The one that presses on your ears at the end of a demanding day, reminding you no one is going to smile at you before the next day begins to start the same cycle anew. It’s the kind of silence that makes Eren’s chest hurt. 

Footsteps approach from the kitchen, and Eren worries his lip. “You still have Hanji's gift,” he says into the quiet. 

Levi nods. “Yes.” 

He swallows. “Do you have guests over a lot?”

“Not really,” Levi says, halting behind his chair. His eyes look hesitant again, wary. A bit like when he asked Eren whether he’d join him for dinner. The shield Eren tore down the past hours lifts again. 

“Oh…” Eren frowns, fighting his disappointment. He deserves Levi’s caution. “What about Hanji?” 

“Every now and then.” 

Another glance to the chairs has Eren focussing on the small coffee table between them. 

“To play chess?” he asks, already knowing the answer when Levi barks a brief laugh. 

“No.” He shrugs at Eren’s glance. “We tried but gave up after a couple of times. Her way of playing drives me mad.” His lips twitch. “Cheating all the time.”

Relieved by the faint smile, Eren makes a decision. Levi might be alone, but Eren is back now, and as long as Levi allows him to, Eren will make sure he has frequent company. “So you haven’t been playing at all?” 

“No,” Levi says. 

Eren grins. “Does that mean I could have a fair chance of winning then?”

Levi blinks, and when he smiles, a part of the former shield has fallen. “Only one way to find out. You take the leather chair, I’ll fetch the board. More tea?”

Delighted, Eren stands and hurries towards the hearth. “Yes, please. I’ll look after the fire.” 

It’s the least he can do. 


	7. A New Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, how quick this week has passed. Thank you so much for reading and for your gorgeous feedback on this story. I'll be back with Magpie in autumn. Until then, have a great summer and enjoy! <3

The castle is dark when Eren enters HQ, except for a few lantern-lit door cracks lining the way to Hanji’s office. It’s bright too, with voices coming from inside, and Eren balls his fists, barely stifling the urge to enter unannounced.

His knuckles haven’t touched the door for a knock when it’s pulled open.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” Tom says.

_ Well, I’m here now, _ lies on Eren’s tongue, but debating this is not important. He approaches Hanji. “You’re looking for Instructors?” he asks. “I’m in.”

She sits behind her desk, eyes smiling, cheeks shiny. “You haven’t lost your spirit, I see. I’m so glad.”

“Must admit, I missed you storming through HQ in the middle of the night,” Tom says, leaning against the door with crossed arms. “It was nice at Levi’s?” 

Shooting him a quick glance, Eren nods. “Yes. We had bread. And chess.” 

The toilet flushes in the adjacent bathroom, followed by rushing tap water before Armin exits. “Hello, Eren. Back already?” 

Eren frowns. “It’s past midnight.” 

He was shocked when they finished chess and Levi mentioned it was late. Time flew during their game, but that doesn’t explain why Armin is still in Hanji’s office. Nor does it explain why he looks paler than some hours ago. “What are you still doing here anyway?”

“Meeting,” Armin says with a shrug. “Hanji wanted a detailed report. You look better. Everything okay?”

“Oh,” Eren says, rubbing his neck. “I guess? Dinner was good.”

Arching an eyebrow, Tom looks at Hanji and Armin, and they share a look Eren can’t decipher. Anger bursts into life. He’s sick and tired of people talking about him as if he weren’t right there. Levi never did that. Before Eren can say anything, though, Hanji grins.

“You heard about the restructuring? How wonderful! Then we can come right to the point. Gentlemen?” She turns to Armin and Tom. “Get some rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow.” 

They salute as they retreat, Armin with a telltale side glance that makes Eren roll his eyes. Great. So Armin set him up. Of course, he did. 

Before he can call Armin out, though, Eren catches the exhausted shadows beneath his blue eyes, and remembers how tired he is too, despite the tingly energy coursing through his veins. He scratches his head and plops into Hanji’s visitor chair. 

“So,” Hanji says as the door clicks shut. “What kind of tea did you have tonight? Tell me all the dirty details.”

A fuzzy part of Eren’s mind muses it’s just like her to ask something that has nothing to do with his time away after not seeing each other for months. Next thing she’ll pester him with Titan-related questions, and it will be like back in the old days. He’ll leave for his quarters before that. Or he’ll fall asleep to her yammering. 

“You don’t even like tea,” he points out, eyebrows lifted. 

“Indulge me.”

He snorts at her wide smile. “Oolong for dinner. Gunpowder for chess.”

“Must feel nice to be home again, hm?”

Lamplight reflects on her glasses, and she looks at him with so much joy, Eren swallows. “It’s good to be back, yes.”

She hums, and her gaze turns earnest. “In addition to your own messages, Armin kept me informed about your symptoms on a regular schedule. You've been through a lot since you left. Memories, nightmares, vomiting, lots of migraines and nausea. Blacking out whilst riding.”

“Um…Yeah.” 

“Something else that we missed?”

Eren picks at his nails. “Nosebleed one evening in August. And…” he frowns, shifting in his seat. “I hit Armin a few days before that. Right in his face. I’m sure that was fully me, but…I crushed his jaw real bad.” 

“Whoa, you did?” Hanji’s eyes gleam. Her palms press on her desk. “He never had that before. How fast did he heal? Did you watch? Did you time it? Did you see which part healed back first? Did you observe the steam emission?”

“No, I…” Eren pulls a face. “I didn’t, Hanji. He was in pain. And I wasn’t too well…”

Heaving a sigh, she leans back in her chair. “What a pity. That’s what happens when I’m grounded. Ah, well. Anything else?”

“No, not really.”

“Mm…” She looks at him for a few seconds before she jumps to her feet. “This isn’t good. We must properly test you before the next mission. I need to check on the serum too and see if it’s still working…you’ll go to Cookie first thing in the morning.” 

Coldness spreads through his stomach as he listens, the words  _ before the next mission _ repeating in his head. She wants to send him out again?

“Hanji…” he begins, struggling with keeping his voice from breaking. “I can’t…” 

“Oh, you have to. We need to extract spinal fluid, and Cookie is the best doctor we have. We’ve been through this, it doesn’t–”

“Hanji!” Eren bursts, breath heavy. “Do I have to leave again? For expeditions, I mean?”

“You don’t want to?” she asks, hands deep in her hair. She looks like a fluffed-up chicken. “I thought you’d like exploring.”

“No,” Eren says through a tightening throat. “I don’t.” 

He’s been knowing this since he left, but being back today made it even clearer to him. He isn’t made for the road, Armin was right with that, and as much as he once thought exploring would be the best, his place never was out there. Up until this afternoon, he had no clue what he’d say to make Hanji let him stay, but he’d have done anything. Anything. Then Armin mentioned the open Instructor job, and it hasn’t left Eren’s head since. On the contrary. It would give him a routine. It would allow him to live in a real room. A clean one. In walking distance to his best friend. It would allow him to train and run with the wind rustling through the woods. It would give him a purpose. 

“I’d rather stay here,” he admits, holding her brown gaze with all the willpower he has. 

“Oh…” She looks at him for a heartbeat before she shrugs. “Well then. I’m sure we’ll find a solution. Wait. What did you say about teaching?”

Eren ruffles his hair. “Armin…” set me up, he thinks. “He mentioned you’re still looking for Instructors. Is that true? I know I have no references, but–”

Hanji bursts into laughter. “No references. What a funny thing to say!” She cackles with a hearty smack to her desk before wiping mirthful tears off her face. “You’re Eren Yaeger. You were trained by Levi for five years, of course, you have references.”

“I’m serious, Hanji.” He stares at her with pleading eyes. “I can’t leave again, I just can’t. The road makes me feel awful, and I am a pain to live with there. I’m just… I know I can’t just do whatever I want, Commander,” he adds. “But I suck at surveying and I…I’m just not made for it. Please. There has to be a better way for me to contribute.”

“So teaching, huh?”

“You have a better idea?”

She grins. “I have not. It’s the best I ever heard, actually. You’ll be a fantastic teacher.”

Eren looks back at her, determination tightening his jaw. He wishes he’d have as much trust in his abilities as she seems to have, yet if this is his chance to stay, he won’t fuck it up. Can’t. “If you let me try, I’ll do my best,” he says.

“Of course, you will.” She beams at him. “You always do. Besides, these are some lucky Cadets if they have you.”

He huffs. “Right. How do you know?”

“Because you’ll love them like mad.”

Eren frowns. 

When Hanji keeps smiling at him, he clears his throat. “So what do we do from here on?” 

She folds her hands. “Instructing or not, you will report to Cookie tomorrow. You’ve got a lot of sources in there, we have to make sure you’re all right. We already got Armin’s spinal fluid, but your case is far more severe, plus you are you, and everybody reacts differently, so we need to make sure.”

Eren nods. That explains why Armin looked this pale earlier. “All right.”

“Good. As soon as we know you’re as fine as you can be, we can talk about a schedule for our Cadet programme. Training starts by mid-end December, so you have plenty of time to prepare. I need two Instructors, so you’ll share duties. What did you and Levi talk about?”

Blindsided by the change of topic, Eren blinks. “What?”

Hanji leans forward. She wears that zealous look. The one which announces Eren should run or brace himself for an inescapable Titan talk. “Did he ask you if you steam after bowel movements?”

Sighing, Eren rubs his sore eyes. He’s too tired to follow two conversations at once. Certainly too tired for a science monologue. “What?” 

“Or after sex, you know?” Hanji continues. “Depending on how you do it? Did he? I’m just asking because we had a brilliant conversation about it.”

Eren’s chest turns ice cold. His mouth dry. Does she know? 

He never told anybody about the one-night stand, and he always thought neither did Levi…but this is Hanji. She’s family to Levi. They always seem to know everything regarding the other. 

At least she can’t punish Levi anymore for having relations with a subordinate. Or throw Eren out of Levi’s squad for what he did. He’d still prefer her to never find out.

He stares at her. “No,” he answers carefully.

“Damn!” Her hands slam on her desk as she presses herself forward. “I must know. I even drew it and need to know whether it’s accurate so I can add it to your medical records.” She grabs a sheet of paper and holds it out. It shows Eren from the side with a cloud of steam concealing most of his bare arse, if nothing of his front. 

“Is it correct?” Hanji asks. 

“Er…I don’t know.” Eren scratches his brow. “My dick is smaller?”

She pins him for another moment, then crashes back into her chair. “Shit! I need to ask Armin now. I love him, but I swear to the Walls, he has the humour of a gravestone. Can’t even handle a solid flatulence joke.”

Eren snorts. “I noticed.”

She smiles. “Remind me to test that steaming eventually, yes? For now, you should get some rest. You’re tired, and it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” 

Hanji is right. He’s about to crash in her chair. Folding himself out of it, he nods. 

“You haven’t unpacked yet, have you?” Hanji asks. Her fingers drum on her desktop. 

“Um, no. Not really.”

Hanji hums, looking far too cheerful for this late hour. “An Instructor needs a bigger office than you have at this moment.”

“It’s a room more than an office,” Eren says. 

“Exactly my words. You’ll need a desk and a place where people can call on you. Oh, it will be wonderful having you on board. We’ll have such a great time together!” She pulls open a drawer and retrieves a key. “There. Luxury office. My treat.” She throws the key at him, and his sluggish reflexes jump into action, catching it. 

Scowling, Eren holds the key aloft. It’s shiny and looks like new. “You had this prepared?”

She grins. “Maybe? I had a feeling. It’s ready for you to move in if you want.” 

He doesn’t mind where he sleeps tonight as long as it’s inside and in a real bed again. Eren shrugs. “Where is it?”

“Don’t recognise it?” Hanji says. “Who do you think polishes keys like this? It’s surely not me.”

Eren gapes. “You’re giving me Levi’s old office?”

“As I said: my treat.” She grins. “Now off to bed with you. I agree with Armin. I don’t like how haggard you are. Dismissed.” 

“Thank you.” Eren nods and turns on numb legs. 

Levi’s old office. Seems like he’ll move his stuff right away after all. 

*

It takes Eren no two minutes to gather everything he owns in his old quarters. Clothes, bathroom supplies, tea utensils he didn’t take with him in March, his still unpacked bundle, and last but not least the stone from the ocean. 

The walk to the new place feels odd. Like treading on cotton while every sound is louder than it should be; his breath, his footsteps, his heartbeat. A snore down one corridor. Enthusiastic groaning down another. 

Hurrying past the “yes, fuck, yes…fuck, you’re wet,” before he can make out who the moans belong to, Eren dashes for the staircase and finally arrives in front of a familiar door. His hands shake as he thrusts in the key. 

He breathes before he enters. Another breath, and his knees give out. 

It shouldn’t be this shocking. It’s just a room. An almost empty room that hasn’t been used for months. Dust hangs in the air. It smells like old oxygen that hasn’t been whirled up in too long, and yet… 

Levi is everywhere. 

He’s in the desk still occupying the middle of the room. He’s in the spot right where Eren stands, looking at Eren with hurt in his eyes as if he didn’t know whether to invite Eren in or not. He’s in the whiff of tea still lingering in the air, and the faint idea of soap. Levi’s essence itself is in here too. A mere trace yet so strong, a single inhale makes it rush through Eren’s veins and settle in his lungs. 

Closing the heavy door behind him, Eren struggles for breath. 

Hanji couldn’t have known what stepping inside meant. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have smiled as kindly, nor would she have been this eager to get him here. Maybe she’d even snatch the key away from him again. 

Eren sinks to his knees, hands buried in his hair as he fights not to cry.

An entire evening he pulled through. He’s been strong and it was easy. So easy. Levi is kind and the best person Eren knows. This trace of him in the air, though, it’s ruinous. 

Ordering his uncooperative lungs to remember the concept of breathing, Eren looks around. He sniffs.

He needs to get up to his feet. 

He needs to sleep too. He can return to his old room, although it would mean passing sex moaning and cold corridors, and lying in his bed, trying to recall how this room felt. Eren stands on shaking legs, shuffles to the bedroom. It looks so empty. It smells like dust and Levi. Like safety and loss. 

Levi can’t have used it often in the three months he spent here after the war. Yet his influence is in every left-behind detail, including the nightstand Levi prefers to his right rather than left. Even the wooden knobs of its drawers have their figure aligned, the vertical lines running parallel to the floor. 

Unsure what impulse drives him to it, Eren’s fingers twitch for the upper one, tracing the wooden pattern with his thumb before sliding the drawer open. It looks empty at first but halfway-through a single sock lies on the wood. Clean and folded. Staring at it, Eren bites his lip. 

He hesitates for a moment before he takes the piece of clothing. He has to know. 

Holding his breath, he flips over one end to look at the sock’s underside.

His face crumples.

A seam runs across the darned heel. Survey-Corps-green against unbleached greyish white since Eren didn’t find the matching colour the day he mended it. It’s his.

Eren’s sock. The sock he left behind in his flight from Levi’s bed.

Strength leaving him in a swoop, Eren sinks onto the mattress. It’s not the same bed he fled from. It’s cold and empty nonetheless, and yet, as he drags in a shuddering breath, Levi’s scent still is here.

Staring at the sock in his hand, Eren wonders why it’s even here. Levi must have taken it with him after Zackley’s orders to move the Survey Corps back to this HQ. Maybe Levi wanted to return it and passed his chance with Eren leaving the Walls. Yet why leave it here?

Eren sniffs as he looks around, trying to picture Levi packing his things. Carefully storing item after item into a box, everything fitting into a single military crate or two. He can picture him saving this sock until the end, then frowning at it and contemplating what to do with a piece of clothing too big for him and not his to begin with. A quiet nagging reminder of what they did that night. 

Levi couldn’t give it back to Eren. He wouldn’t have given it to someone else to return it either. People would have asked questions, or assumed enough, and Levi wouldn’t want to tell anyone. He didn’t give it Hanji, so she doesn’t know everything that happened between them after all. And Hanji wouldn’t have put it here; she’d have rubbed it under Eren’s nose with glee. 

It left Levi with two options: take it with him as a cruel souvenir, or throw it away. The first would have been stealing from Eren. The second tossing their entire past away. 

A third option would have been to return it after all. Levi could have snuck it into Eren’s old room while Eren was away but the mere fact he didn’t… 

A pained sound tears at Eren’s heart. “You thought I’d be gone.”

He shudders, and lying down on the bed, dressed as he is, he inhales Levi’s scent from the pillow as his tears spill over. 

He doesn’t know why he’s crying. It’s different from when he emptied the tea and different from snivelling in the rain too. It feels achy, old, and broken, and as Eren recalls Levi’s distantly apprehensive gaze all evening through, the choking shakes set in. 

It all makes sense now. Why Levi bought an old house. Why he renovated. Why he looked at Eren this intensely when they said goodbye in March. Why he never wrote. Why he was so guarded tonight. Why he looked at Eren sometimes as though he couldn’t believe he was really there. It must have felt like meeting a ghost. 

Levi’s friendship was the best thing Eren ever had. He can’t live without it. He tried, tried so hard, and in the end is back here with the realisation he destroyed more by distancing himself than doing good. Levi might not even need him in return, but Levi needs someone, should have a friend to keep him company. It doesn’t matter he doesn’t treat Eren with the same ease as he once did. It’s his right to be careful. That doesn’t make it right for him to sit alone by his beautiful new fireplace each night. Not when Eren can do something about it. Not when he can help. 

Crying in the cold, empty room, Eren clutches his sock to his chest. He’ll do everything from here on to prove to Levi he’s real. He won’t go anywhere ever again. He’ll earn their friendship back. There is no other choice. He owes Levi that much.

*

When Eren awakes, it’s on a far too soft surface. His back is stiff. The room chilly. His head hurts. The sounds are strange. The air smells nice. 

Blinking his eyes open, he finds himself facing a stone ceiling instead of a tent canopy. He lies on a heavenly bed, and no nasty root or stone is digging into his spine. HQ. 

He’s back.

Eren is about to smile at the realisation when he stretches on a deep breath. His face freezes. He stills. 

It smells like Levi in here. And, the far bigger shock, his trousers are sticky.

“Oh, fuck no…” 

Eren throws his arm over his face. This can’t be happening. Not here. Not on his first morning back. Not in Levi’s bed! His old bed…whatever! When did it even happen? Usually, these sorts of dreams wake him right up. This time, he can’t even recall what he dreamt about. Not that it matters. Whatever it was, it’s wrong. 

Lifting the arm from his face, he sees sunlight that has long lost its dawn-dimmed murkiness. How long did he sleep? He must have been exhausted.

On another breath, his lungs fill with soap and dust and more Levi-scent, and Eren shakes his head. He clenches his jaw and jumps off the bed. He has to clean himself and report to Cookie. 

“And then,” he says with a dull pang behind his ribs, “I’ll ask for another office.”

*

Rinsing himself of sperm in Levi’s shower is humiliating. It aches and makes the water feel freezing cold although it must be warm. At least it’s easier to scrub himself in here than in a shallow river or next to a mere puddle. 

Not half an hour later, Eren stands in HQ’s basement.

It was Hanji’s idea to move the laboratory down here. Aside from the fact it’s the most unfrequented area of the castle and hence least prone to disruptions, Hanji was of the opinion it was about time at least some basement carried a hopeful feeling. To her, it’s a vow to find something more effective than the serum. To Eren, it’s just a basement laboratory.

“Cookie?” he asks upon entering.

Pale blue eyes gaze at him from behind magnifying working spectacles. He pulls them off and reveals a set of russet eyebrows below short grey-streaked hair. 

“Eren!” He claps his hands. “I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice is calm and confident and makes Eren smile with warmth.

“I slept late,” he says, rubbing his nape.

Cookie’s smile is gentle. “Oh, no worries, no worries. You look like you needed it.”

“Seems so, yeah.”

“Should we get started right away?”

Eren nods, dropping his notebooks on a nearby worktop and pulls off his shirt. At a quiet tut, he looks up and meets concerned blue eyes. 

“Oh, you are thin, my boy,” Cookie says. “Didn’t eat much?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, continuing to strip and feeling goose flesh rise on his exposed skin. The room is chilly as ever, and though cold temperatures usually don’t affect him much, it always does down here. “Lots of nausea. Little appetite. Vomited too a couple of times.”

“Sit.” Cookie pats a patient bed draped with a towel, and Eren obeys. “So the mission was a disaster, as it seems?” he asks, disinfecting his hands before approaching Eren. 

“Not really, no.”

Feeling Eren’s throat, Cookie lifts an eyebrow. “I meant for you.” 

“Oh,” Eren says, letting the soft yet apt fingers tilt his head. “Yeah. Seems so.” 

Cookie hums and checks on Eren’s thyroid, then his armpits. “Feared as much. Hanji was worried mad while you were away. Open wide.” 

Eren obeys, waiting for his mouth inspection to be over before he asks, “She was?”

She didn’t look too concerned yesterday, neither in the afternoon, nor when Eren went to her after returning from Levi’s.

“Mm.” Cookie takes Eren’s wrist and shrugs his left forearm out of his coat sleeve to get a look at his watch. “She’s glad you’re staying.” 

“You already heard?” Frowning, Eren observes the brass arms on the clock face tick off second after second. 

He gave up asking why Cookie insists on the regular checkup routine years ago. The final argument on Cookie’s side was whether Eren would “like to do his job then” while he tried himself with cutting down Titans for a living. Eren caved, yet still finds it rather silly. He heals everything after all. No need for anyone to make such a fuss. 

Cookie releases Eren’s wrist and fetches his stethoscope from the nearby work station. “Of course, I heard. The Commander was here talking my ear off before Tom dragged her to breakfast. I allow her in here only when she isn’t contaminating anything, so she seizes the three days a month she gets.”

Eren snorts. “You still don’t much leave this place?”

“The Underground makes strange people out of us, Eren. I prefer no sunlight for my experiments. Makes me feel safe. Now shush, I need to auscultate your lungs.” 

He checks on Eren’s abdomen too and hums. “Sounds all right. Your pulse is strong too.” He looks at the diaries. “They are all up to date?” 

Eren nods. “They are.”

“Tell me about nine days ago,” Cookie says, taking seat in his chair.

Eren sighs. “I woke up with really bad headaches. They got worse during the day. I wanted to return here, so Armin let us move forward for a few hours. I started to have memories. Nothing bad at first. By noon I had to stop to ralph. From afternoon onwards, I don’t remember much. Waking up in the sick waggon. Scarring, apparently. Not my wrists, just my face.” 

Cookie lets him talk to the end and nods. “How do you feel today?”

“Not bad.”

Cookie quirks a rubiginous eyebrow, and Eren sighs. 

“Tired,” he replies. “Old.” 

A faint smile tugs on Cookie’s mouth, more polite than dismissive. “You’re twenty.”

Eren shrugs. “Still feel that way.” 

Though the kind expression remains in Cookie’s eyes, apprehension creases his brow. “Can you describe it?”

Shrugging, Eren scratches his wrist. “Usually, it feels like I’m dying. Or like I’m already gone. Or that it doesn’t matter either way. My skin hurts sometimes too. Like fire that won’t stop. And breathing is hard. Yesterday was a bit better. Today too, I think…I don’t really know yet.” 

Cookie frowns into the silence. “Since when have you felt this way, Eren?”

“Since about a year ago. I thought…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “I thought exploring would help. It didn’t.” 

“How was it at Levi’s?” Cookie asks.

Eyebrows drawing together, Eren scratches his chest. “It was okay.” He clears his throat. “It was nice.” 

“He gave you enough to eat?”

Eren scowls. “Of course he did. I was there for dinner!”

Cookie smiles. “Would you be willing to share some details?”

Eren rolls his eyes. “A piece of chocolate cake. A cinnamon roll. Three buttered slices of rye bread with goat curd and another slice with honey a bit later. And lots of tea.” 

“It stayed in?”

Eren nods. “Yes.” An impulse makes him add, “No honking, that is. I went to the shithouse meanwhile, if you have to know.”

Unperturbed amusement crinkles Cookie’s crow’s feet. “So no new nausea?”

“No.” 

His light blue eyes soften. “Good. Continue that diet with three meals a day, and you’ll look better within a month. Feel stronger too. You’ll need it for the Cadets.”

Frowning at the twiddling fingers in his lap, Eren presses his mouth shut. It’s not how Cookie meant it, yet it’s not like Eren has much of a say in whether Levi will keep feeding him each night. He would love to eat like this every evening. He was more hungry yesterday than he’s ever been during the entire expedition too. Close to ravenous. The mere thought of being allowed to have dinner with Levi again has his stomach rumbling. 

“Well then,” Cookie interrupts his ponderings. “Let’s check on your temperature and then extract some spinal fluid so the Commander can find sleep tonight.”

*

Eren’s spinal fluid looks fine, and the palpable satisfaction as Cookie looks up from his microscope, relaxes Eren’s shoulders. He’s healthy. So Armin is safe too. 

Reassured by that knowledge, Eren steps into the mess hall for lunch, and despite the noise echoing from all around, he smiles at its sight. He’s truly back. The relief is strong enough he accepts the extra big portion he receives at the food counter without as much as a sigh. 

“Commander’s orders,” the lunch lady says. 

Eren shrugs and grins at the bowl. It’s lentil soup with little bits of bacon. When did he last have lentil soup? Or bacon for that matter? “Thanks,” he says, strolling towards the familiar table he used to frequent a year ago. 

His friends already sit there, and he plops on a free chair opposite to Armin. 

Jean looks up from his portion, eyebrows lifted. “How was it at Levi’s?”

Eren rolls his eyes. Why keeps everyone asking that? “You were there too, weren’t you? And dinner was fine.”

“Heard you came back late,” Connie says with an odd smile.

Scowling over his soup, Eren clutches his spoon. “Yeah. So?” 

Connie shrugs, blinking a bit too much. “Oh, nothing. Just saying.” 

Eren frowns. Sometimes he truly doesn’t understand his friends. 

“So, I heard you’re staying?” Armin asks.

He looks so innocent, Eren squints his eyes. “Yes. I took the job. Thank you so much for asking.”

Instead of looking ashamed, Armin grins. “Suits you better anyhow.”

Eren snorts. 

“What will you do?” Sasha asks, emerging from her bowl. Her mouth, chin, and cheeks are spattered with brown soup remains before she wipes them away, licking them off her fingers. 

“I’ll teach the next Scouts.” 

“Oh, I can see that,” she says, staring at something distant before smiling at him. “You’ll be perfect.” 

Eren gives her a weak smile. He doesn’t know why people seem so sure about this. Yes, he wants this job, threw himself at it. But he’ll look after kids and will have to make soldiers out of them within three years. How can anybody know he’ll be good at it? 

“Aw, man,” Connie says. “You’re truly staying? Who should I make fun of from now on?”

Jean smirks. “Need a mirror?”

Eren pulls in his legs just in time before foot-kicking under the table ensues. 

“We’re staying too,” Mikasa says over a spoonful of soup. 

Eren’s eyebrows shoot up. “We?”

“Yes, we,” Jean says, looking smug. “We’re the new elite.”

“Mikasa is the new elite,” Connie says with a grin. “You’re just her tool.”

Jean smirks. “ _You’re_ a tool.” 

Connie laughs.

Ignoring them, Eren frowns at Mikasa who blushes slightly. “I have my own Squad now,” she says. “Crisis management and country defence. Jean’s my second.” 

It’s just like her to stay at HQ when he does, Eren muses. At least she isn’t the second teacher Hanji mentioned. It will keep her out of his hair during most hours of the day, and it will do her good to have her own project going. 

“Good,” he says, returning her smile. 

“You’ll go to Levi’s again tonight?” she asks. 

Rolling his eyes at her boundless curiosity interfering with his life, Eren sighs. “Yes,” he says, “I’ll visit later.” 

She looks at him, tenacious and quiet, yet finally nods. “All right.”

Six more hours, Eren thinks, anticipation coursing through him at the thought. After all, he has to bring Levi his stone. 

*

Hanji frowns when Eren asks for a different office, halting in her speech about Training schedules. 

“Why?” she asks, sounding hurt. 

“Please, Hanji,” Eren says. “I just can’t take it.” 

She scratches her head and frowns. “At least take his desk then. You need one anyway.”

Eren sighs. “All right.” 

Not an hour later, the desk occupies an office one storey above its old home, and after frowning at the almost empty quarters, Eren arranges them the only way he knows they’ll work: The desk in the middle of the big room, the kitchenette at its back, the chair facing the entrance door to the hallway. Tea in the cabinet closest to the hearth, utensils in the adjacent cupboard. Soap flakes under the sink. Paperwork and stationaries in the desk drawers. An emergency knife clamped into the fixture Levi installed beneath the tabletop. More emergency knives hidden in easily accessible places in every room. The bedside table on the right side of the bed. 

Every niche gets cleaned before equipped, and by late afternoon, Eren sweats, and grins into the handkerchief tied around his mouth. 

The sun casts its early November glow through the window, shining on stone and wood, and though Eren wouldn’t call this chamber home, he thinks it comes pretty close. He sets aside the cleaning tools, and looks around. 

Eren will receive visitors in this room, talk to hopeful Cadets, and with a bit of luck be able to help them with their troubles. 

He’ll have to train in the woods beforehand. If he were a Cadet, he wouldn’t want a teacher who lazes around all day and doesn’t know shit what he’s talking about. He’s always despised idle skitters, especially when they were supposed to set an example. 

The grey stone lies on the desk’s edge, waiting to go where it belongs, and after brushing his fingertip over it, Eren smiles and moves for the shower to get cleaned up. It’s time. 

*

As opposed to yesterday, the Sparrow is filled with customers when Eren enters with the friendly chime of the door bell. 

Some of the patrons wave at him, some eye him with curious glances, and he affects a cordial expression, as he looks for a place to sit. His chair from the prior evening is occupied, and he draws his lips to a side, considering one of the seats at the counter. 

“Do you want this table?” a female voice says, and Eren meets honest blue eyes in a freckled face. 

“Um…yeah, eh, no.” He frowns. “I don’t want to kick you out.”

“No worries. I should go home anyhow. Please.” She tucks a long brown strand of hair behind her ear and stands. 

“Oh,” Eren says, rubbing his neck. “Thank you.”

She shakes her head. “You’re welcome. Good to have you back, Mister Yaeger.” She smiles, takes her coat, and heads for the counter. 

It’s only when the café door closes behind her that Eren wonders how she knew who he is and where he comes from. The question is cast aside when familiar footsteps approach.

“What can I bring you today?” Levi asks, clearing the table. 

Eren glances up at him, the stone a pressing weight in his chest pocket. “House recommendation was good yesterday.”

Levi nods and serves a piece of simple pound cake with Gunpowder. 

Eren beams and tries to savour it as slowly as he can. It tastes fantastic. 

*

Waiting for the café to empty, Eren basks in its atmosphere, and by the time the last customer has left, he decides once more it must be the most beautiful place ever built. 

Levi closes the door, forbids Eren to help with tidying up again, and eventually joins him at the table, with new cups for Eren and himself. It looks and smells like Earl Grey. 

Eren smiles and nods at the wall behind the counter, adorned with a familiar drawing that wasn’t there the day before. “Jean brought you our gift.”

Leaning back in his chair, Levi hums. “He did.”

“It looks good up there. Takes me back, actually.” Eren chews on his lip, thinking of standing at the sea, the sand beneath his feet, feeling so far away from himself. 

Levi gives another hum, and Eren grins. “But don’t tell Horseface that. He might take it as praise.” 

A smirk vanishes in Levi’s tea cup before he nods. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Eren says, warming his hand on his black tea as his gaze lands on the other drawing he already noticed yesterday. “You have another drawing by him.”

Levi twists his cup on the tabletop. Steam rises from beneath, curling upwards between pale slender fingers. “Found it on my doorstep the day you left.”

“I didn’t know,” Eren says and frowns. He doesn’t know why it feels important he should have. Because it’s a drawing of him? Because it’s standing here where everyone can see it? Because Levi kept it instead of throwing it away? Because he doesn’t have it upstairs for a personal item in his keepsake-void home? Because not three months ago Eren was of the conviction Levi never even wanted to have a drawing of him anywhere near him? Because it makes him feel something like hopeful, like things aren’t as broken between them as he feared?

“Why isn’t it upstairs?” Eren asks. 

Levi looks at him, hand still resting on the tea cup. “Felt better down here. Does it bother you?”

Bother him? Eren shakes his head. 

“No,” he says, and because he really means it, he says it again. “No.” 

Levi nods, faint lines easing out on his brow, and Eren gulps, nursing his Earl Grey. The stone in his pocket rests against his ribs, and looking at the drawing standing on the counter, Eren is ashamed he waited until the last moment to find it. 

Levi should receive something more worthy of him. Something that truly makes up for everything, that lets him know Eren is sorry, so terribly sorry, more than he could ever say. 

He only has this stone, though. Just like Eren himself, it has to be enough. 

He mulls over what best to say, and soon his cake is gone to the last crumb, and he knows if he keeps the gift to himself any longer, he will explode. 

“I brought you your stone.” 

Levi blinks slowly. “So many gifts in a day, huh? Almost feels like my old team missed getting bossed around out there. Lucky me.”

His voice is so flat and his expression so overtly nonchalant, Eren laughs. He doesn’t call Levi out on how he looked yesterday when he heard of his souvenir, nor does he call him out on the finger tapping against the rim of his cup. He just snorts and reaches for the pebble he carried on his heart for weeks. It feels much longer. 

He looks at Levi as he places it on the table between them, and smiles when Levi’s eyes blink again, widening slightly. His mouth opens as if he wanted to say something, then closes it and takes the stone in his hand. 

_ Yes, _ Eren thinks, looking at Levi’s face.  _ The stone has the perfect colour. _ For once this year, he did something right. 

Gracious fingers close around the rock, and Levi’s eyes smile. “Thank you, Eren.”

Levi’s joy has always been unique. Quiet and contained, just like himself. Him saying it out loud has Eren swallowing. He truly picked the most fitting gift. 

Warmth spreading through his entire body, Eren nods, and tests his voice. “Hm.” He swallows again. “You’re welcome.” And because he has to show it too, he gives himself a little push and drops his final careful shield by nudging the tip of his boot against Levi’s shin.  _ I missed you.  _

Levi’s stills, eyes fixed on Eren, and after a moment which stretches into eternity, Eren feels a shoe nudging back.  _ I’m here.  _

Unable to speak any further, Eren smiles. 

They finish their tea in easy silence, the stone resting beside Levi’s saucer, and whenever Eren catches Levi looking at it, the lines around his eyes soften. 

Setting down his empty cup, Eren wonders if he should bring up supper. If last year hadn’t happened, he’d assume, impose, and ask whether he should buy groceries this time. But last year did happen, and he doesn’t want to take the invitation for granted. 

He doesn’t want to leave either. 

Grey eyes look at his empty cup, and a finger taps against china. “Hungry for dinner?” Levi asks.

Joy bursts in Eren’s chest, and he can’t stop grinning. “Yes. Very.” The mere prospect tingles in his arms, in his chest, and he needs to walk the energy off. “Let me help.” He wants to contribute too, so he stands, taking his emptied dishes; he can at least clean those. 

“Pighead,” Levi says after him, but it lacks any bite, and Eren laughs, fumbling for some coins in his pocket to pay for his tea and cake. 

His grin widens when he steps into the staff department. It’s filled with coffee bags and tea, so much tea, everything labelled diligently, and looking so neat. The soap scent is strongest here, and Eren doesn’t have to look for the flakes to know they’re the under the sink. 

“Customer fees include dishwashing service,” Levi says, stepping up beside him and adding his cup to the sink. 

“I’m a special customer then,” Eren says, still grinning. “Keep the money.”

Levi doesn’t reply, yet smiles as he fetches a tea towel. “You wash. I dry.” 

*

Upstairs, Levi surprises him with fried potatoes with sage and sunny-side-up eggs, and thinking he’s risen to culinary heaven now, Eren swoons over his steaming plate. 

“That’s even better than the bread,” he says. 

Levi hums and fills their tea cups with herbal infusion. 

“I’ll stay,” Eren bursts, catches Levi’s eyebrow lifting in slow motion, and realises how it must sound. He frowns, and corrects himself. “I mean at HQ. I won’t join the Exploration Team when they’ll leave in three weeks.”

“I know.” Amusement tugs on Levi’s lips. “Hanji rushed over even before I opened to tell me.”

“Oh.” Eren’s chair creaks beneath him as he worries his lip. “All right. I um, I hope this is all right for you.” 

Levi frowns though his voice is gentle. “You can do whatever you want to, Eren.”

“Yes, but…” It’s not how he meant it. 

“You’ll be a good Instructor,” Levi says. 

Head shooting up, Eren meets firm grey eyes looking back at him as Levi adds, “They’ll be lucky to have you.”

Eren swallows. Of all the comments on his decision today, this is the one that matters most. The only one that matters. Not only is he allowed to stay, to come over for dinner, to give Levi company in the evenings. But Levi approves of his work choice as well, and if Levi says he’ll be good at it, Eren will be. Alone to not disappoint. 

“Good,” he hears himself say as the final weight falls off his chest. “Good. Mikasa wants to stay too. And apparently, Jean will as well. Una will take care of cartography lessons, as far as I know. She was planning to stay anyway for map copying.” He smiles at the relief to not having to do the copying himself and admits, “Can’t say that I mind.” 

Levi smirks over a piece of potato. “What does Armin say about you three staying here?” 

Thinking back to lunch, Eren shrugs. “He understands. He even looked…relieved?” He scratches his head. “I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Mm,” Levi says, finger tapping against his knife. He looks ponderous, chewing and frowning. “Will you miss it?” His frown twitches deeper before he meets Eren’s gaze.

Eren wants to burst that no, he won’t and that he hates exploring. It’s the truth, it’s why he decided to stay, but looking at Levi’s face always made Eren think further. No, he won’t miss exploring. It’s not the only thing he’ll give up though. 

He’ll trade one friend for the other, and though he knows Armin can take care of himself, Eren won’t be able to protect him any longer. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “It certainly will be odd to see Armin leave. We’ve never been apart for a long period of time.” But Eren can’t follow him. And perhaps, he muses as he thinks of the upcoming months, maybe his new Cadets need someone to prepare them as best as possible. Eren won’t fail them. 

“Is it hard?” he bursts at the thought. “Teaching, I mean.” 

Amusement tugs on Levi’s lips before it’s locked away. “Depends. With some people it’s easy. With some it's not.” He looks at Eren and shrugs. “Some are naturals and don’t need much guidance. Others bite their way through with willpower and determination.” The last comment comes with a teasing tone that makes Eren grin before Levi continues. “They all need different types of help, but you’ll know when you’re there.”

Eren nods, thinking about it. “Will it be all right if I ask you things?” he asks. “You know. If I need help from time to time? Only at first. Until I get a hang of teaching that is.” 

Levi frowns. “Of course. You can always come to me.”

“Good,” Eren sighs as the rest of his worry dissipates. “Thank you.” 

“Any time,” Levi says. 

Looking across the table, Eren catches Levi’s smile.  _ Thank you, _ he thinks again, and smiles back. 

*

One last thing is on Eren’s mind as he finishes his dinner. One last thing to rebuild what was broken. 

Levi is a creature of habit, and after having spent eight months with little routine and no one to share it with, Eren longs for it just the same. 

It almost feels like a test. 

Like something he has to initiate, to show Levi he won’t do anything stupid again, not if he can help it. Levi asked him if he was hungry. He’s always been a caretaker of some sort, and Eren the unrelenting fool who wants to take care in return. 

Maybe it has to be like this from now on. One of them taking charge of one sort of board, the other one ensuring its counterpart isn’t neglected. It only feels fair. An equal trade. 

The best friendships are a balance, and Eren will see to it he fulfils his share. 

These kinds of things have to be done right. With no rushing, no pushing, no assuming. So he waits until Levi’s plate is empty and the chamomile infusion has come to a close. 

He looks at Levi in the lamplight, gathers his courage, and asks what feels like the most important question of his life. “Can we have another game of chess?” 

Levi smiles, and seals their friendship with the only answer that will matter from now on. 

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is so very much loved. <3 Thank you.


End file.
